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My Hunger is Concrete




I’m just a year and a half old
and am constructing this huge shopping mall.

Here I am sitting in the shade of a bush
by the side of the towering structure
to which my mother carries the mixture
of gravel and sand and cement
in a grating crater on her head.

When I’m hungry, I wail loud.
That’s when mother comes
and makes me stand on a wall,
opens her blouse,
and pops a nipple into my mouth,
her one hand behind my back
and the other holding the crater.

It’s my hunger that builds the mall.

PS. I wrote this poem some ten years ago when I watched a mother stopping to feed her child at a construction site in Delhi.  The photo was taken a few years later while walking through Bhatti Mines, a part of Delhi that has palatial ashrams belonging to godmen and also slums where people struggle to make both ends meet. 


Anyone interested in a free pdf copy of my book, The Nomad Learns Morality, is welcome to contact me. 

Comments

  1. RajJanuary 8, 2016 at 10:24 AM

    Extremely potent! Beautifully written.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Titas BiswasJanuary 8, 2016 at 5:10 PM

    It is their blood and sweat and bones and muscles that build the mall.
    Great work.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Purba chakrabortyJanuary 9, 2016 at 1:31 AM

    Heart wrenching :'(
    Very well written.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tomichan MatheikalJanuary 9, 2016 at 8:14 AM

      Thanks, Purba. Both the poem and photo come from real life, actual situations.

      Delete
  4. D.NambiarJanuary 9, 2016 at 2:15 AM

    Very affecting.
    It is the story of a mother who cannot afford to sit at home and watch over her little one. It is also the story of a mother who gets to take her kid to work or watch her little one while she goes about making a living.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tomichan MatheikalJanuary 9, 2016 at 8:14 AM

      One of the many grim realities of the city. There is much more humanity in the countryside.

      Delete
  5. Ranjana's craft blogJanuary 9, 2016 at 8:47 AM

    Mother can do anything for her child....very true lines

    ReplyDelete
  6. CifarJanuary 9, 2016 at 1:01 PM

    beautifully written, I liked the rawness of harsh reality in the poem

    ReplyDelete
  7. sunaina sharmaJanuary 9, 2016 at 8:25 PM

    Reality - harsh, bitter, unrelenting, and blind.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tomichan MatheikalJanuary 10, 2016 at 6:23 AM

      How long will that reality last? A cry in the wilderness can start an avalanche rolling....

      Delete

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