Infinite Waiting Poem by Namita Rani Panda

An untouchable I'm!
That's my identity
with no love and sympathy,
no understanding and empathy.

The door is opened a chink
only to throw left over;
either a hot loaf of hatred
or a sweetened piece of apathy;
that my hungry heart
greedily grabs and gulps with grand
gratitude.

The door is closed again
till it is wished to be opened;
with no chance to state
my wish and gratitude.

I wait and wait like a watchdog
who waits for the grace of his master.
Like a daily wage labour
I toil in rain and scorching rays
to thrash him of his gloom, hatred and ego.
To win his love and sympathy
I thrash my chastity and dignity.
I, the Untouchable, wait anxiously
for the door of love to be opened
to offer me a cosy room.