The Junkwallah Poem by Ramesh Iyengar

The Junkwallah

When sunlight scorches,
you see junk dealers cycling the streets
under a blazing Srivilliputtur sun.
(We have too many of them) .
An old bicycle, their prized possession.
He cries, calling women to sell him newspaper,
plastic, iron, bronze, copper, old clothes…
and anything under the sun.
His scales measure 10 kgs as 2 kgs.
His bicycle set to carry even Himalayas,
Either cash, guava, mangoes or sweet potatoes
you get for a sack of oldies.
(Your vessels, clothes, disused kitchen tools) .
The crude economics of recycling and profiting
(unknown to Adam Smith)
A thankful job for clearing our homes…..
- - S. Ramesh