A Nondescript Indian Village Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

A Nondescript Indian Village



A village without the post-office, the current and electricity and the school
In the far flung countryside, what to say about it,
The hamlets and thorps lying in darkness,
The whole village to sleep by the night
Without the light,
An oil lamp too not available
In the mud house
Where the maximum used to sleep on the floor?

Such an India portray I, describe I, such an India of villages,
Thorps and hamlets,
Languishing in darkness,
There is no office to go,
Even the watch is not
Or even it is, a few have,
People asking about time.

Nothing to do, as the day begins
With the routine works,
Nothing fresh and hot to be taken,
Just the stale food
Of the night time to take to,
The cow shed to be cleared,
The farms to be visited.

Nothing to read, nothing to do
Barring the agricultural works
And daily worship to be done
In the morning and the evening
In the homely worship-room
And at midday
The waited for food available.

No shops are there, no houses,
Just the traditional houses
Thatched and mud-built
With a basil plant in the courtyard
And the mud house fixed for the homely deity,
The saviour from
All ills and evils.

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