Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
I saw a watchman, snaking along.
I was at my window, he crossed the road alone.
He came out of the wine shop, just below my house,
Meandering and sozzled of the local scorn,
The virgins in my locality, shouted in misery,
Who will protect us from puncturing our litany?
I shouted back, in stone silence,
He was not drunk, he was limp and shrunk,
His leg was eaten by the empathy of India
Many a young people die and live of polio and stigma.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Watchman by Hardik Vaidya )
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