The Realist Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The realist, the realist is one who will give you the return journey ticket,
Return back, return you back
From the dreamland
You are revelling in, flying high into,
The world of dream, colour, fancy and imagination
You have been.

This is the world of struggle, suffering and sacrifice,
Hardships and bare things,
Coal, dust, fire and water,
Coal, ashes and earthly remains
And here lives it not anything else
That think you your own.

The kite which you keep flying, the realist brings it down
And with it revel you lowly into dust,
Get a bite of dust and reality,
Bare and naked,
Hardcore realities of life and the world.

None but the wearer knows where the shoe pinches,
The paths of life lie they thorny and craggy,
Prickly and stony
And man as a pilgrim going
Over the ways zigzagged.

The realities of life bare and naked,
Hardcore, faded and discoloured,
Tougher and harder
As this is the world of toil, tears and blood,
Hard labour and sweating.

Down to earthly realities and things mundane,
Monetary, economic and financial,
Life troublesome and tedious,
Its problems, daily trifles,
Who to understand them?

Life is not as you have understood,
As I have,
It is full of struggle and suffering,
Trouble, tension and tribulation,
As the ways of the world
As it goes in its own.