Dream The Dream Poem by Khadim Hussain

Dream the dream you lascars,
Sons of Punjab, North West Frontiers, Gujarat, Kashmir and Bengal
Sitting cross legged on a charpoy
In the shade of a banyan, feasting upon meals
Fit for Maharajahs,
Lovingly conjured by mother,
The best chef in the world.

You who dreamt the dream of fame and fortune,
In distant lands,
But find yourself consigned into a murky dungeon.
breathing stale air laden with soot.
Forever shovelling coal into the blazing mouth
of an insatiable ogre.
Dreaming the dream of lush fields under the golden sun of Desh.
Filling your lungs with the gentle breeze,
as the seas of wheat sway.

Quench your thirst with tepid water,
Dream the dream, of sipping cool cupfuls
Drawn from the village well
Or a crystal clear stream.

Dressed in torn rags,
Blackened with coal soot,
Dreaming the dream of returning home,
Carrying your fortune upon your head.
Visiting relatives and friends
Riding tall on a black horse like maharajahs,
Wearing white salwar-kameez and magnificent pagri,
Without a hint of stain.

Crammed four to a cabin,
Dream the dream of sleeping in the courtyard or roof top,
Waking to the dawn chorus.

Proud Punjabi, Pathan, Gujarati, Bengali and Kashmiri,
Forced by cruel stomach to cook as best as you can.
Dream the dream of Desh, where only the women cooked.

In wet, cold port towns and cities of Wilayat,
You the self taught chefs eke out a living
In cafes serving curry.
Dreaming the dream of feasting upon meals,
In warn sunny Desh,
Lovingly conjured by mother,
The best chef in the world.

Never dreaming of the impact
Of your endeavours,
Upon the host country.
Now, you the lascars are but a dream,
Even in the eyes of your heirs and descents.
In time like all dreams,
You too will be forgotten.

Charpoy: a bed
Desh: Homeland
Pagri: a turban