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.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Watchman by Hardik Vaidya )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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