Atmanirbhar Is… Or, Finding Swaraj
Atmanirbhar Is…
Or, Finding Swaraj
For You …
Gandhiji’s Swadeshi served afresh
The old wine rebottled in plastic pouches,
Contracted to your capitalist cronies
As their contribution to ‘Make In India’.
My contribution is to keep consuming
And keep voting for you.
And I started walking …
You sent me wholegrains to smother my hunger...
Miles away from anywhere called home
Which I am supposed to grind into flour
Under my blood-stained feet.
When you locked me down…
Then, scheduled trains going nowhere particular
I didn’t wait…I picked up a cycle and pedalled.
When providing me ‘relief’, is using my savings
With a moratorium on interest payments.
When an Atmanirbhar Bharat, involves
Digging my own grave as an incentive
Under your employment guarantee scheme
For Me…
Standing up for myself,
For the ‘idea of India’ I hold dear…
Since you’ve left clueless, everyone I once turned to;
Compromised and co-opted every institution
That ought to provide me sanctuary.
Crafting my thoughts …
Into words and actions; into the universe unfettered
Whenever I censure you from every platform.
On every given occasion revealing
You’re nothing more than a gigantic
Hollow statue, with feet of clay.
When I prefer …
The pleasure of taking my life
Rather than affording you and yours
The pleasure of gang-raping me…
And justifying it as a legitimate political tool.
After being bruised and battered
And left to perish with broken knee caps
By your pit bulls and my ‘protectors’, the police.
To let justice be delayed or, denied
Because demanding my rights, as a citizen
Is viewed by the justices as the ‘wrong’.
I’m an intellectual denied bail
For speaking the ‘evil’ they prefer not to hear or, see.
Remaining unbowed
When you call me Naxalite, anti-national;
An endless litany of abuse….
Leaving me little choice
But to fight to the death, if need be…
Protecting my lands, my forests, my rivers
From your mineral marauders
Who see moolah in everything I hold sacred.
Trying to remain mindful…
When you’re breathing down my neck
Or, your knee is taking my breath away
And I’m reminding myself not to react in anger.
Observing you conjure every dirty trick
From your playbook of realpolitik
To pin me down.
The worst you can do is lock me up
And throw away the key
Or, even more convenient, there’s the encounter!
Whatever you do, doesn’t matter.
I’ve risen; my spirit has found Swaraj.
Writing my own obituary…
Because the media has lost their gonads
To say a good word about anyone else…
But you.
Writing this poem…
To stand up and say it like it is...
After which, you’re welcome
To do your darnedest.
I’ve risen! My spirit has found Swaraj.
©2020 Ranjan Kamath
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