Many a time I wonder
Why those at height are enslaved
To insidious ideas and institutions,
To the degree that some seem
Highly qualified and less educated,
Indeed they carry genuine degrees.
As I lay pondering the conundrum,
Revealed those simple answers
To quench the questions
That haunted my head and heart.
An emancipated one needs
To dig his brain, water it
And make it fertile enough
To grow genuine ideas
As a meticulous peasant does
To sow some rare seeds
While the slavery sprouts
A thousand ideas as natural
As the grass in the meadows!
An enslaved one passes through
The iron gates of life
As easy as in the green channel
For the diplomatic persons
While the man of liberty
Needs to prove his identity
At every stage he moves
Like the scrutinies done
At high security checkpoints!
When a man of library craves
For due recognition he deserves,
An enslaved one is bestowed
With showers of appraisal
And sometimes gets saturated
By the greatness thrust upon him!
This is how I understand
The miracles performed
By the art of enslavement!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem