They Drive All Through The Night And We Sleep In Our Houses, The Truck-Drivers Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

They keep driving all through the night
Without a rest
And we sleep into our homes
With rest and comfort,
I mean the truck-drivers,
Poor and little-paid drivers
With their expectant owners
Always looking upto,
But getting not,
Everything spent on maintenance,
Wages paid to the driver and the helper,
Their food and advance
And on fuel,
The driver honest or not
Or a drunkard
Taking wine to full at a dhaba,
The roadside line hotel
And driving all through the night
Without taking a rest,
Sometimes the police helping them,
Sometimes disturbing at check-points
With license, permit and order.

The trucks loaded with grapes
Running at a high speed
And that covering a long distance
So much risky and dangerous
For the driver looking for
The bonus to be given,
The trucks from the south
Bringing in fish and others,
From Nagaland
I look upto
And think, think.