A Gypsy's Song Poem by Sasanka Sekhar Panda

i don't want to live in mansions
built by my ancestors no more alive.
I don't want to wear this so called freedom
like handcuff
and I don't want to lick
the feet of the oppressors
as slaves
and to lay prostrate on the temple floor
with fear for some unseen power, non-existent.

In the depth of my heart
grow the sufferings
of the luckless millions
like the griefs of a childless couple
and secret wailing of an Untouchable
a truly down-trodden person
living in utmost deprivation
in slums, squalors and ghettos.

Come friends!
put more fuel
in the burning harness of every heart
and share the ignited energy among yourselves
that is real freedom.
It wears no pretence or cowardice
nor does it give the cold stare of a goat
in butcher's wooden pad.
It only uplifts the courageous
naked and unbound
breaking the chain of cold impotence.
It covers the whole air
like cosmic rays.


Come friends!
I don't mind
sharing my ration with you
come, live in my thatched hut,
enjoying the stars and the moon
through the roof,
and dancing merrily on your bed
drenching yourself in the
drizzling rain.

Strike hard to injustice
and dethrone the tyrants.

Come friends!
Join the caravan.

I have forgotten my original home
which I left long ago
long long ago.
No one came to see me off
although it was the town
where I was born and brought up.

Now the cradle has already become
narrow for me
and with it
this town
with its self-centered friends
and utterly selfish, wicked relatives.

So, come
when the shadow of cold action
and timidity fades,
by our strong heart and bold action
we will bring freedom
the freedom of a lion.