A poem in anger- against open defecation, (and the murder of the two girls in UP recently)

Many months back I had shared a poem from a longer poem, which was in several parts…among my notes here. At that point I could not type it out, neither now. But in the light of the recent rape and murder of the two young girls I am ENRAGED. So before I write about it in other ways, i want to put this poem out, which is parts 4 and 5 of the longer poem (Dawn and the Moving Train- fleeting glimpses, from 11th September 2013)

 

These parts are written at the sight of the morning squatters, who dot both sides of rail tracks, answering the call of nature- and at that point i felt a huge sense of loss, sadness, that we in India could not even provide for toilets for a vast majority. But TODAY, I’m terribly ENRAGED…I never use this word so frequently. In the previous part, No.3, i had talked about an urchin begging at 5:30 in the morning

 

(4)

Not much further, on my side of the track

(for naturally enough I cannot see the other)

The track is spattered with men and women

Squatting to evacuate,

Some have their backs to the train

‘N some face it resignedly 

Though none looks at the passing beast

To see if someone peeps out of the windows

 

I am pained-

In my aloof, middle class educated sort of a way

Or may be in my human dignity- oriented sort

 

I am pained-

(More so) as I see a young girl and by her side a woman

Just a fraction away

One looking down

May be waiting to squat

May be having got up from it

Waiting for the train to roll away

To carry on with their open defaecation

Publicly, openly, with hundreds passing, on a passing train

 

 

(5)

My country alas we failed thee!

Or did we?

Perhaps those who took control

Over a thousand million’s destiny

Do not have clarity

Except for self interest-

They still go on that way

 

While we- the majority, resignedly, helplessly

Our backs broken every single day of our miserable lives

For numerous reasons

Having been reduced to a mental slavery

Of machines, cinema, of the media

Of astrologers, cricketers, actors and politicians

Are now inured by our own reality

Unconcerned about our fellow humans

(What to mention other life forms))

live lives blinkered, chasing dreams

That celluloid advertising sells us,

 

We the idiots, the inhuman slaves of the market

Untouched by the indignity, the suffering

Of our own people, who squat in the open

No matter what season

what part of the nation

For the simple reason

Like us they are also human

Who need to eat and evacuate

Alas! we fail the majority

‘N this NOT THE ONLY way.

 

Copyrights prateeksha sharma 2013

Image

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