A FARMER'S AGONY

Acres and acres of land had to be cultivated.

This poor old man,

No longer he had,

Energy in his hands.

He did reach our for help,

To a fair, rich man.

Not once nor twice.

But several times was he denied his help.

His cries were left unheard,

For he was poor and his problems shouldn’t matter to us.

He woke up in the morning

To cut crops and harvest our food.

And another person woke up somewhere,

To go for his morning walk,

To loose the weight he gained from eating those crops

Did you see the irony?

You never hesitated to buy a “pure cotton” dress,costly I must say, from a brand named Gucci

You didn’t think twice before you purchased an expensive silk saree.

Then why do you hesitate when someone asks you

To go visit the farmers,the people who are the reason why you have it in your hand in the first place.

Don’t tell me you don’t notice the irony.

With a sickle in his hand,

And venom filled in his eyes,

He lived with tyranny.

With a SAT book in your hand

You spent lakhs of money,

To get into the Harvard building.

Where they did teach you about the farmers agony.

But what did you do?

NOTHING.

And so the poor old man,

Was left with no choice,

Shredded tears from his eyes,

He gave up his life.

What happened next?

“Another farmer suicides”

Was printed in the headlines.

..and so the cycle continues