Tuesday, August 18

A Sorrowful Saunter

She walked gracefully, as lithe as a dancer,
Her pretty white saree fluttering in the breeze.
Her face shone like a thousand diamonds set ablaze,
Her hair the color of dark kohl,
Her eyes just as marvellous.

She passed through a meadow as the cattle grazed,
A frisking calf came up to her.
She cuddled it lovingly,
And noticed a hillock of plastic and garbage.
She stumbled, her mind in a haze,
She shrugged and moved on.

She treaded through the farm with lush wheat harvest,
The beauty of the crop set her heart free.
When she looked up at the sky,
She saw a tall skyscraper threatening to take over the farm.
Amidst the thorns, her saree tore a wee bit.

She reached the river-bank,
The blooming lotuses, playing kids and ducks soothed her soul.
The water glistened and she looked carefully,
A ring of oil and chemicals floated past.
Her face clouded over and dazzling smile faded.

A bell rang in the temple nearby,
She walked to it to bow to the Lord.
A queue stood waiting for worship,
As a wealthy zamindar strutted past.
A child ran ahead for a glance of the idol,
The pandit rushing to greet the landlord shoved him out of the way.
Her hair turned limp and lustreless.

She entered the city gates,
Tired and morose, still hopeful.
After all, education was beneficial, right?
"Yes, we'll destory the basti (=settlement) and the surrounding trees,
The mall will be ready by next September.
Just get my son the Ferrari, and I'll make sure the bridge collapses."
Her eyes moistened and eyebrow twitched.

As she roamed the streets she saw,
Young kids begging and tricksters scheming,
Man fighting against man,
Under the pretext of God, values and religion.
Law-makers and police abusing rights and responsibilities.
The youth ready to pack their bags and leave,
"After all, what's there in India anyway?!!
The future of this country is in the dumps!"
She watched the future speaking, dumbstruck.

Not a Tsunami, not an earthquake, nor droughts,
Could make these people understand just how terrible their deeds were.
These reminders were showing them a glimpse of the final consequences,
Which they encashed and exploited to rob their own kind.

Her heart went out to the jawan on the border,
She shed tears for those that had laid down their lives for freedom,
There were few who promised to make the nation proud,
But the country teemed with evil and cynical, selfish monsters.

She treaded her lonely path,
Her walk sorrowful and soul in despair.
The saree torn and dishevelled,
Her face stained with tears and grime.
Hair the color of pepper and salt,
Eyes red as peaches.

"Oh my children," she sighed,
As she trudged away to nowhere,
Shaken and hurt, morose and lost,
"My children, how I wish..."

3 comments:

ani_aset said...

superb poem, i love the way you have weaved good things with reality bites :)

vishal said...

Aye shapath!that's so beautiful n thoughtful..straight from the heart..how u come up with soo beautiful renderings..tussi great ho,anuja!

Lonely Princess said...

Thanks Ani & Vishal!

Love you guys for reading and commenting... Really encourages me to keep writing :-)

Cheerio!
Anuja