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“A Bread Riot” might strip you of your menace”
Mirthless faces sigh in disgust!
Must have seen me in the textbooks or wheat fields?
Lean skull draped in sweat & dirt
Torn hats! Roasting under the blistering sun.
In the days of droughts as “the earth” would turn sterile
And then those floods wrecking havoc!
You get your meals, the “Greens & the Grains”
A farmer would still be starving
Screeching in empty stomachs.
What if I retaliate?
“Derided, vilified, exploited”
Trapped in a web with some fetish dreams
“A Desire to feed and Love for a rich harvest”
Often snubbed by petite rewards!
“Whose battle I am fighting alone?”
I sigh aghast with a saddened mind
Cheated by my own people, the conspired markets
Tenures, reforms!
Making life penuriously sorrier.
That’s all what you know?
Segregated in an “opulent rostrum”
How do I elude!
Children waiting for their adored father
Wife ready with those hot chapattis
Counting stars through the ragged roof!
Please don’t sympathize
I would rather live in your hearts
Like a true friend,
Seeking pleasure in your happiness.
Little bit of Love, little bit of Respect,
Hands on shoulders in the days of hardship. That will do.
That’s my story
Screaming for my destined Glory
Standing tall, amidst rust, amidst ruins
I am “the poor Indian farmer”.
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