Playing with dust,
Under the sun
Unmindful of
What she had,
What had not,
Playing with dust
Under the strong sun
That poor girl,
Poor Dalit girl
Into the hamlet,
Hamlet home
And the courtyard
All around the place,
The open space adjacent to it
That Dalit girl,
Poor Dalit girl
Half-fed,
Half-fed and half-clothed,
The child,
Child of poverty
Smiling,
Smiling sweetly.
The post-mortem,The public hospital?
Fanaticism,Conservatism and orthodoxy,To promote the civil rights movementIs not to be violent and bloody,Resort to arson and lootingAnd bonfireAt the cost of public property?
Which but they complaining of,Why, why did heWithout saying toAnd had he,Would not have desisted from?Yasodhara weeping, breaking down and in tearsAnd complaining the day afterHis departure for the good of the world,Abandoning his royal and princely robes,Ysodhara feeling and repenting,Repenting and complaining,Why did,Why did heAnd had he to go, he should have,Why did he…
With the Satanic PowerCrafting and defecting.Is it the painted sphereOf the hallucinatory fellowsFor whom religion is the opium of the people,Faith-blind men?
SingingIn the cane fields,An indentured labourerOn a British shipSailing farWith no hope forThe return journeyTo be back home,A coolie in an alien land.
Bapu, in your memory,How lost are we!
