Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

The Farmers of India


One rupee coin, old, pristine.
A culture forged and immortalised.
Heads the government, people self rule.
Tails the notation, crops and farmers, toils of truth.
Heads I win, tails you loose.
Farmers of india, half naked, full of hope,
Burning in the glorious sun, irrigating crops with their blood.
The fat lords owning acres now farm cash
Smoke hash
Sun baked, organic, farmer you measly potato,
Delicious we find you homely and mashed.
Freedom, yes, you are free,
Make your noose, go to the nearest tree,
Be free, go hang your self,
Be eaten alive or die your self.
Heads I win, tails you loose.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Edited: Thursday, April 25, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Media attention has got diverted account the rapes happening all over india, farmer suicide has fallen out of fashion. Farmer suicide was also a hot topic, I am not sure if the farmers are committing suicide this year or perhaps all of them have already gone extinct.

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