Nrc Panic Paralyzes India Poem by Pranab K Chakraborty

The country
I live
Called Varatbarsha

Its cloud
River
Meadows
Rain and sunshine
I feel my own

Its people in the field
Grows crops for us
Our relatives

Its guards
Guard our border
Our own
The fishers, cobblers
Blacksmiths and sweepers

Its priests and forest-dwellers
I feel the relation
Who makes our land
Fit for the people to live
And to expand
Human society civilized as others

But recent you breed a dilemma
You the ruler trying to fix
A parameter for detecting intruders
By a wrong way of communal hezemony

At this juncture
If you try to make me stateless
I'll simply spit on your face
Whether hang me commonly or not
I'll simply piss to your chair
Against your crime
To snatch my Varatbarsha
I've acquired by my birth-right

Community not my identity
Color not my identity
Religion not but
The love towards own motherland
Should be granted as the parameter
To confirm the civilian

Just change your dark conspiracy
To divide people by polluting
The sense of humanity

Who are you to manipulate
Ask you again and again
Now you listen
You are nothing
But the puppet
In the hand of a class of capitalists
Who simply calculate
The percentage of profit
Nothing else

So you will be thrown out
If they estimate you as the ass
Who are of no use
Only bluffing by the name of religion
You will simply be thrown out
So don't disturb the harmony
You the ruler try to feel
The integrity
Among the people Of Varatbarsha!

Pranab k c
12/10/2019