I wanted to sing a song -
A song about rivers of love
and suns of joy
But the river that once bathed me
now carries the tears of the girl
who killed herself in it
after being raped by people
who claimed to be guardians of her
morality.
Or, was it her loyalty to the nation
that they protected?
The sun lashed the land
with the same zest of those guardians
And the farmer was driven to his
death
The beetroot I eat carries his blood
And the stench of the pesticide
that took his life.
His land is being taken over
by the government to build
the tallest statue in the world
to honour the latest patriot.
I can hear the rumble of galled slogans
in the distant land where fairies used
to sing once.
How do I sing my song now?
Try in Hindi, my friend said.
That’s the language of the patriot.
Hari Om
ReplyDeletePoignant and punchy poetry my friend... YAM xx
Thanks, Yam.
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