Protesting Poem by Ajit Das

Protesting

Rating: 5.0


I'm a poor mortal dwelling in a city ghetto,
working hard for a living all day long.
What I earn suffices only for daily needs.
Induced by a fellow dweller next door,
I take part in rallies to augment income.
The return is not bad: free transport,
food packet and a fixed amount of money
just for the sit-in till the end of the day.

On rally days I'm taken to the big ground
where I squat with others in an enclosure,
listening to full-mouthed rosy promises,
raising slogans, clapping hands in applause
till the last speaker delivers his speech;
and, then, I come back home, tired, bored.
But I find I make almost the same money,
sitting in the venue, as I do working all day.

Rallies, processions, demonstrations continue.
Strangely, I start feeling a short of change
taking place within me: a voice articulating.
I refuse to acquiesce in the outside world,
wanting to say something loudly, protesting,
demanding that I'm heard, my wants met.
I steadily come to believe: to protest is to live,
propelling life’s eternal struggle to move ahead.

Sunday, November 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poems
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Seema Jayaraman 16 November 2015

Introspections from the other side, the life of a poor man exploited and used by the political machinery as a fill in for staged protestations.. reflects the reality of what we see in our cities and suburb.. one wonders where all the money comes from to pay for the staged needs.. thanks for the realistic portrayal..

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Ratnakar Mandlik 15 November 2015

Man is the most pliable animal, a being who gets accustomed to every thing. This saying is correctly applicable to the character described in this beautiful poem. Secondly it is tragic that paid protesters are available in abundance due to prevailing poverty and the psyche of sizable no of poor to get money without working. Enjoyed the realistic poem. Thanks for sharing.10 points.

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