Decrepit buildings cry
out for comfort
Lodged firmly in the
heart their deprivation and insult.
A similar fate awaits
that man who tills the land…
Incessant, under the
summer sun, monsoon rain and winter chill.
What morsel are you
feeding tonight? -- your wife, your son and your daughter!
Blank stares instead,
at the numbness of tomorrow; at the emptiness of survival --
...Oh what's on that
platter tonight?
You have your saucers
full?
Yes, with delicious fare
that’s greasing my tongue!
Look there, in your
backyard!
Can you grease those gasping bellies?
Not with food from your hearth...
A brief prayer instead,
to soothe parched hearts --
‘Annadata sukhi bhavah’
--- the line in italics is a prayer in Sanskrit, which suggests ‘may the food provider be happy
and healthy’
