Categories
Poetry

In Conversation with the Streets

By Ahana Bhattacharjee

(This poem is a response to a procession of peasants and workers)

I asked the streets I was passing by,
"Who left those marks upon your chests?"
"A rugged pack," they heaved a sigh
With fire in their eyes and storms in their breasts.

"Those same feet that had toiled dusk and dawn,
Ferried the cargo and reaped the corn.
And the scars those feet left on the way,
Were blood and dust and sweat," said they.

"What's that smell that fills the air?"
- "The heady stench of grit and dare."
"And the cries that can still be heard?"
- "The heart songs of that unruly herd!"

Hand in hand they walked, brave and tall,
Men, women, children and all!
They walked in the sun, and in the rain,
The very heavens echoed their claim!

I asked in awe, "Who WERE they?"
"The Real People - who pave your way,
Who build you houses and serve you rice!
Why?! The Gods themselves heard their cries!"

"Were people hurt?"- I anxiously asked.
- "Many fell down, many profusely bled!"
"But did that stop them in any way?"
"They became stronger - is all we can say!"

"What did they want? What were their claims?
To live in luxury? Or to fly in planes?
Did they want dresses, and riches, and food?"
"They wanted humans to treat them as humans should!"

Ahana Bhattacharjee is currently an undergraduate at the department of Comparative Literature, Jadavpur University.

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