By Pitambar Naik
A lot of hue and cry all over
From village panchayats to parliament
I have allegedly been deprived of my share for centuries.
My voice is like a voice in the wilderness.
Can you evaluate?
How your schemes and policies are embarrassing
My womb is not barren.
I produce bountifully.
Many survive from my bowl.
Why then are my children valueless commodities?
What you have and I don’t.
Look at my wildly transverse valleys and mountains
They full of symphonies and laughter.
I can groom Tata and Sail from heart.
But my siblings are allegedly sold to whore houses.
How despotic our democracy is!
Even the buds can’t shriek in their mother’s lap.
Why do you condemn?
I can’t make it clear to you
Why my children take up weapons as Maoists!
Pitambar Naik was born and brought up in Kalahandi district of Odisha. He holds an M A. in Journalism and Public Relations. He works as a social worker in Jamshedpur in India. He writes in English.
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