a poem by Sudarshan Madhav Karhale

The first nine months
of this beautiful life
spent in your beloved mother’s womb
seem to have become
a part of history;
she needs to bear
an identity card
to express herself to her own son
what a dramatic tragedy!

The ones who learnt
walking on their feet
holding their fathers’ hands;
finds no time to spare for them,
rather busy dealing
with goods and services,
plots and lands.

At times when you had
a habit of ‘spoon feeding’,
when your grandma would read
bedtime stories
while you’re sleeping;
has now turned into
a drastic scenario
with you alone eating.

The profound days of medieval past
when theatre movies were ‘reel’,
seem nowadays pretty ‘real’;
promises made these days
in friendship and love
are synonyms for ‘betrayal’.

Helping nature of human kind
has somewherein lost;
people fight like cats and dogs
in name of their own gods and racism,
propagating their influence
at someone’s life’s cost.

Government made once
for the welfare of people,
exploit their funds and labour;
representatitves elected to look over
the problems and issues of residents,
appear attempting for
more of them to harbour.

Truth has found its grave,
myth spreads its roots deep;
martyrs and volunteers are gone,
what remains is ‘old men’s keep’.