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.
This city is too sterile for me
I won't live with my head in a cloud
I gladly give up creature comforts
to walk in the dirt barefoot and proud
Now happy in my new agrarian life
though the effluent of your burn out life drops
Into our river see how thoroughly cleansed
to nourish our bountiful crops
Although our vibrant life
lies easily in your view
Your sight is too myopic
to have any kind of clue
We once worshipped cave shaman’s
totemic figures fired in clay
Now our women gathering the herbs
create the natural way
Surrounded by our loved ones
and babes in tow
How we glory in our bonfire's
soothing warm glow
Agrarian state of the art
Every person doing their part
.
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The sands of time past keep shifting according to how we remember or forget or refashion it in hindsight, which is no sight at all.
Kajal Basu
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