Here is a poem about the curse of Covid, by Arindam, exclusively for Different Truths.
The sun throws a fistful of blood on the sky, As the twilight washes it away. Scattered clouds like blood-stained cottons Of blood and phlegm of a dying boy, Lies scattered in the Covid ward of a hospital. At 32, the sole bread earner of His family departed alone, in a body bag to The burning ghat. Three mourners waited for Their turn amidst stacks of body bags, Feeble chants of Ram-Nam-Satya-Hai and Hori-bol-Hori, were drowned in the Stench of burning plastic and flesh. A framed photo in his home, A statistic in his city, state, country, His father, silent as a tomb, Cursed his gods, karma, wife – She’d departed five years back, much before Masked faces, scared relatives, gasping breaths Helpless people, insensitive politicians, election rallies And Kumbh Mela, became the new normal. The fire in his hukka and kitchen had extinguished, His eyes dried of tears; his heart became a lump of Stone, his death-wish turned down. A living Corpse, lonely, waiting for death. His throat was parched like a desert, All his glory and wealth, mere wasteland, He laughed and laughed, people said he Lost his mind, was in deep shock, should cry… He laughed and hung an empty photo frame, The third member of the family, beside his wife and Son. Forever a remainder, in the margins, ignored – A curse of Covid, a forgotten, solitary guard of the Pandemic.
Visual by Different Truths
Very poignant👌
Many thanks, my dear friend.
Thank you Sir for sharing such heartfelt poem. It truly feels like The Wasteland.I hope that the poem will bring senses to people to those shopping for Eid is more important than following covid health protocols. Hope ,optimism and focusing on the present are very important.
Best regards,
Sincerely and respectfully
Covid appropriate behaviour is must. When will we learn, if at all! Thanks, Shagufta.
A multilayered poem that echoes the pain of the present time. Reading of the poem is pain itself. But I feel, the poem is confined to its own time only.
I desired the unity and relevance of the present time. Many thanks for your perceptive observations, Utpal.