Transformation Poem by Ratnakar Rout

Among the windy deserts, barren hills,
Ruptured valleys and dried fountains
Arduous Macho men lead a nomadic life
With illiteracy, ignorance and superstitious beliefs.

No sufficient food, only some pieces of bread
And boiled eggs, even no wild roots
And mango kernels, they fight to live
And fight to survive.

Might is right where poverty preludes religion
Religion is twisted and molded to suit a few
And plunder many.

A few survives like legendary Shakuni
In the castle of Kabul and Kandhara
They raise Jehad to snatch the fortune of many
Others are silent spectators
Alas! I feel pity for those passive onlookers.

Witnessing these scenes
Which left lasting imprints in my mind
Really I am wondering
The suffering of the aborigines
In refugee camps has really baffled me.

The off springs of tomorrow,
The budding generation
And the premiums for future,
Like frightened cockroaches
Throw their glances to the food bowels
And wait eagerly for receiving the relief materials.

What is their future?
When thousands and thousands of destitute
Carrying scanty resources and shouldering uncertainty
Move aimlessly in an indefinite direction
Is it the march for Jehad? Under the adversaries
Are they longing for the conquest of the
Whole world?

The outcome of today’s religion
Is to render thousands homeless
Slaughtering of innocent lives,
Swelling up refugee camps,
With damaging the social fabric
Is it called victory? Are you the real conquerors?
Oh’ brave fighters! Forget the anguish
Forgive the Kafers, your so-called nomenclature
Look at the humankind and stretch
Your benevolent hands for eradicating the
Suffering of many.