Now at each and every door
Parked are new bikes and sparkling cars
With villagers' minds smoke-polluted.
Pragmatic differences deepen,
Most have most to show and boast
Sans any politeness and humbleness as such.
Village life rolls on the booze,
Mutual relations lie low and sigh high
Down the discordant alleys of drifting rifts.
Homecoming hug pinches me,
Their wine-drenched arms smell badly
That scare, scar and hurt my mind and heart.
My eyes rain to wipe off the blood
Dripping down from the core of my soul,
My heartfelt thoughts turn as dry as bone
In the cemetery of amity in the rural corridor.