Not again

not another man

who tills the land

tends it with care

dresses tables across the globe

with abundance of food

shall die in ignominy

not another farmer

not another son of the soil

shall be threatened to kill himself

for a few hundred thousand rupees

when loots prosper in exile

when the rich shame in showoff

not another pyre for self immolation

of a poor destitute farmer

shall burn in this country

where spirituality thrives

believers compete for their separate gods

march for icons of the past

fathers, mothers, sisters, gurus and fakirs

advice masses,herd them to ignorance

chain them to inaction

submit them  to mis-truths

tie them to a life of slavish obedience

pit one against another in hordes

and none so brave to stand up

for the man with callused feet

broken soul

tattered clothes

forced to incense himself

for a thousand rupees

in a pyre lit for himself

is there no readdress for the needy

is there no way to reach to those who matter

guardian angels of the soil

soldiers of the forest

keepers of the waters

men and women

who breathe and live earth

curse this progress

break these barriers

rise! reach out ! redeem

PS: Another farmer kills himself. Do we have the time?



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