tHe GrEaT InDiAn GrAiN dRaIn!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the vast fields was where I was born,

endless vast verdant greens all around me,

the toiling of the farmer bearing fruits,

to the grounds as I firmed my roots,

The bright sun nourishing me each with its rays,

the soft breeze to whose tunes - I sway,

the gentle streams of water passing my legs,

as I grow quickly from a seed to a full fledged grain,

eager to be harvested, now that I have braved the rains,

once i am unhusked and shafted with full vigour,

waiting with a bated breath to reincarnate from a grain to the powdery flour

Alas!!! such short lived was my dream this life!!!!

never imagined such sorry would be my plight!!!!


Here am I, stuck in a jute prison along with many millions of inmates,


fighting away rodents and pests, or just simply mourning our fates,


its been more than 3 months now, and we have lived thorugh it and how?


piles and piles of my kith and kin, in complete misery, what is our sin?


officers used to come earlier for a periodic round up and checking,


even that has stopped since some of us have started rotting,

I heard from some of my contacts- there are millions awaiting us all over the land,

Hungry masses on the verge of starvation, for the simple want of a system of public distribution,

we all grains who were fit enough, thought of an escape plan,

to escape this dungeon and be a part of some luncheon,

though feeble that we were, we tried to tumble out by force,

each one of my brethren crying out in pain: hoarse,

to our horror, we realized we were not the only ones to try this gimmick,

millions more were lying all around writhe in pain and shock,

as some masked goons were just spraying some white powder and shoving us with a mop,

I take a deep breath, pause ... and just start rolling away from the masses - cold, dead and damp,

trying my best to escape this concentration camp,

in the hope of surviving for that moment, before I succumb,

from a crush or a mop or the white poision powder being sprayed all around,

to tell my story and about my people- their state of misery unbound,

that sleeping hungry each night is a state of choice,

when some of our well endowed netas .. just rejoice!!!!

Sriky