On Pravasi Divas, While Lighting The Diya, Thought I Of The Pravasis, Non-Resident Indians Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

On Pravasi Divas, While Lighting The Diya, Thought I Of The Pravasis, Non-Resident Indians



How far Indian,
Indian are those who abroad,
Do they remain Indian
Or not,
Change over to
The places
They belong?

And for India,
India exists,
Lingers as a dream,
A faint dream,
Dimmer and blurring
Imagery
Seen from far,
View ashore?

The non-resident Indians,
The non-resident,
Means not living,
His house lying it locked,
Locked and without the men,
Non-resident,
Living, but not here
Absent for.

The postman comes he
And if to deliver posts,
Delivers he
To the man authorized
To take
On his behalf, persona non gratia,
An absentee lord,
Landlord.

Waiting for time
To dislodge,
Dispense with and dispose it off it all
Rusting and dilapidating
And to do the packing,
Leave forever just a stranger,
A shipwrecked brother,
A folklore relative.

Bidding final
And last-time goodbye,
Adieu,
Packing bag and baggage
After being disgusted with
Maintenance and property-keeping
And being captured
And taken over.

The pravasis
Saat samudras paar,
The non-residents seven seas across
When they come to
Feel it disgusted with
The heat and dust,
Hullabaloo and hazards.

So coming for a few times
They admonish the idea
Of visiting their motherland
When it welcomes not heartily
Neither the relatives nor the countrymen
And instead of taking it otherwise
The relatives after the nameless property
And the countrymen checking rigorously
At the airport.

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