INDIAN FARMER

POEM

H e was a farmer.

He was an Indian farmer. 

Once up on a time

farming was lucrative to him.

And he could reap rich dividends

from farming.

That was once upon a time.

With the time flying fast life,

farming to him was

a loss making profession

he couldn’t reap rich dividends

instead it turned

out to be pain in the neck for him

with the climate playing pranks on him

like a child playing mischief on his elders,

with the government

turning away its attention from the farmers

instead extending

help to the industrialists

and businessmen.

Drought due to the

sun getting furious

for a prolonged period

floods washing away crops

money-lenders turned

protectors charging

exorbitant interests

without any corresponding

increase  of income from farming

instead declining

irrigation, electricity and fertilizers

and such other infrastructure absent

farmers couldn’t repay

the interest to money-lenders

farmers had to sell their cattle

ultimately reaching abbotairs

for cheap rates  or for nothing

the money-lenders

grabbed the properties leaving the

farmer in the lurch

he was left with no choice except

seeking salvation

by hanging, consuming poison

or jumping in front of the trains

sacrificing  himself

at the altar of those who were

supposed to turn

their saviours upsetting

the apple-cart

these are harrowing

days for the poor ones

who were

forced to catch trains

to the Maximum City,

seeking any low level of jobs or begging

for whom a roof over

their heads were a dream

the Indian farmers who

were proud of their

profession once

crawling through

the streets of the city

with begging bowls…..