Fire At Bhatta-Parsol Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

As the cadavers of farmers pile up,
In the green land of Bhatta-Parsol;
I, the brooding poet try to find out the meaning;
Of this game of fire and death.

Will the cadavers of farmers,
Deliver wealth, power and progress?
Will their ashes bear flowers and freedom,
To teach a lesson to these beguiled countrymen?

Neither Mayawati nor Man Mohan,
Will emerge victorious, but;
Will be remembered as killers,
Like Mulayam, Basu and Abdullah.

But the scars and pain,
Of farmers are acute and deep,
And the poet within me with a pen,
Don’t know when these brutal Moguls will stop.

Go back to my dear village,
Thou that pass’s by;
Obedient to her dear land,
Here we lie.

Oh God! Forgive them;
As they do not know, what are they doing,
Only let our bones immerse in Holy Ganges;
To avoid trampling by power Moguls.