Theme: NoTheme


Of late, my heart has been
at war with me; for
My village has ceased
to be a part of my dreams!

The orange ball of the dawn,
The echoing bells around the bullock necks
And the yellow blanket of mustard flowers
find themselves stranded at the door steps
of the world of my dreams.

And I am forced to brood.
How come, this metropolis
has overshadowed the memories
of my village.

The stink of the mixed perspiration
in the jam packed compartment
of the North London Metro
Has overpowered
the life-giving fragrance of
the soil of my fields.

Jim, Kenneth and Carl have
quietly replaced the faces of
Budhua, Haria and Sadanand.
Pollution generated by the motorized vehicles
has sidelined the cow dung of
the village life.

How come, ruthless moneylender,
stenchy drains and dirty naked children
with swollen stomachs are the
only living memories of my village?

Lilliputians – political and otherwise
brag and puncture
the armor of my dreams.
The dirty games of village politics
keep haunting my memory lanes.

For sure, this Great Metropolis
has hidden something special
in its lap for me.
For it has become
My very Karmabhoomi!


More By  :  Tejinder Sharma

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