Rickshaw Puller
A rickshaw puller pulls his rickshaw
With all his might.
The rich passenger sits in foamy seat
Enjoying the ride with great delight.
He puffs a cigarette with great comfort
Emitting smokes in dusty air
Drops of sweat even fall
From rickshaw puller’s curly brown hair.
He passed his last night
With an aching stomach
There was nothing to eat
Except some leaves of spinach.
He has to swat hard
And manage something to eat.
He pulls his rickshaw
On hot road with bare feet.
After reaching destination
The passenger will give
A half-torn ten rupee note
And for sometime he will get relieve.
He will only buy some rice
With his hard earned money
But the passenger will finish his lunch
With costly butter and honey
No body feels sympathy
For such a poor man
We discharge our responsibility
Just by giving rupees ten.
Shakil Ahmed.
I can understand your strong feelings against injustice in this good poem, which you have tried to rhyme well and narrated in a very touching manner. I think you have wrongly used the word apathy at the end. What you had in mind was perhaps sympathy or empathy. Am I right?
Truly, we live a comfortable life at the cost of poor man's sweat and hardship and his life passed in poverty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The metaphor in your poem is Rickshaw puller for life and we all are pulling it in our own ways at different paths...Thought provoking poem.10