This is a poem on the horrid, bonded labour system that still persists in the nation. A must read!
Sire, sire let me
go,
I’m old, I cannot
work no more.
I have a family and
five young ones.
I’ve been here for
years, spare me some months.
The sire was
angered by the servant’s plea!
He said, “Before
you leave, return all that you owe me!”
The servant had
worked for years on end
For a loan his
father had taken to spend.
He couldn’t say a
word because he had no money
He was tired of all
he saw- greed and gluttony
The Zamindar said
cunningly, “Give me your son in turn
He will work much
harder, the loan to return.”
The servant was
helpless and cried at his fate
He picked up the
sickle to go back to the estate
“I will not do to
my son, what my father did to me.
He has a life of
his own, let him live it happily.”
With tears in his
eyes, he touched his body so timid
His hand shivered,
he stopped for a minute.
His head spun
around, the heat at its peak.
Fell dead on the
ground-the story of the weak.
His family was
shattered, poverty stricken
The very son he
tried to protect was now the Zamindar’s victim.
-SARAH THOMAS
-SARAH THOMAS
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Well written! :)
ReplyDeleteYou've put across so much in such little words.
Thank you Mica Parker! :)
ReplyDeleteKeep reading.
Your feedback is much appreciated! :)
Nicely written!
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