37) The Farmers' Cry

"Ask not for the fruits and work hard"-
Likewise I have labored, my lord .
On barren lands seeds I have sown,
Thirstily I have tilled and grown.

To the world I feed my best crops,
Those that survived on dew drops.
Though my nation loves me not,
Crouching on the floor I eat the rot.

In the scorching sun, barefooted I toil
I yoke my only bull and plow the soil.
I dutifully serve it's every need.
When tomorrow comes- my children I shall feed.

For the rains -I have stopped praying.
With my great hopes-they keep playing
I only pray the rains don't untimely fall
And wet  and ruin the yield-my all .

 Though I am a true son of the soil.
It makes me shudder and re-coil :
My children's future when I see-
Oh! A farmer- it is a curse to be.

 I decide, before I grow weak and old
My land, my love- I would have sold.
My family departs with what I have saved.
Broken hearted to the city – but my loan repaid.

My brethren in quest for their personal dreams –
Heed not the illiterate farmers’ screams:
“Will your  white collars help you feed ?
Nay! They can’t- You have burnt the seed!”

Sigh!The fruits of my work ,I ask not the sky-
But in anguish – to the god above I cry:
“Lord I beg on my knees- not for your pity
I only seek to lead a life of dignity.  ”