BIPLAB MAJUMDAR
(International poet & litterateur)
Millions of men are moving
On the metalled roads……
Under moonless night,
Under scorching sun,
With children on their laps
And shoulders.
Defying death of day,
Dust of defeat,.
Insecurity of income,
Tears of toil,
Visions of void,
They are going back.
Shadows of sweat
Rolling down their sleeves,
Fatigued feet frowning,
Cramped calves crying.
They are walking back
Maintaining social distance ,
Maintaining law & order,
Maintaining messages of mass.
And they are being blocked
On their way to home.
Lockdown, complete lockdown now.
They have no work, therefore no pay.
Now the question is who are THEY ?
They are the makers of mansions,
Hands of highways,
Factors of factories,
Men of meadows,
Voices of villages,
Crews, couriers,porters
Artisans, attendants,maids,
The low-skilled, unskilled workforce.,
The migratory mazdoors.
In fact, they are
The worshippers of the world,
Nation neighs with their
Network of net worth.
But why does public postpone
Their piebald problems?
Why politics poses them
As pictogram of popsicles?
Why society shoos away
Their sacrificed souls?
Does India ignores their
Ignorance of identity?
Haven’t been they walking
Since 1947?
Who will answer these questions?
Now our country is under the clutch
Of extreme emergency.
Advisers, Experts, Intelligentsia
Are busy in talk-shows….
How long the lockdown would go on?
There is no CAA controversy now,
No NRC non-cooperation,
No mirage of Mandir & Maszid.
Kashmir has cracked down its Kurukshetra,
Shaheen Bagh smudged its slogans,
Because we know that
All psychodramas of politics
Proceed to nothing
But a primrose pecuniary peek-a -boo.
Therefore ,they are on the way
With the tears of todays,
Yearnings of yesterdays,
Thirst of tomorrows,&
With the dreams
Of the day after tomorrows.
Crossing Corona crisis
The woeful wavelets
Of a wizard wand,
Wispy wiles of
Wakeful waterfalls,
The A A D H A R numbers
Are on the way
To their
Huts of Hunger.
(copyright : Biplab majumdar.)
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