The Betrayal Of Adhikari Poem by Pushp Sirohi

The collar was leather, the title was grand,
The finest protector in all of the land.
We gave him the hills and the flock for his keep,
To stand as a wall 'tween the wolves and the sheep.
'Adhikari, ' we named him—the one with the might—
To banish the shadows and master the night.

But the mountain is lonely, the wind carries whispers,
Of silver-tongued predators, cunning and crisp.
The wolves didn't snarl, they didn't attack,
They offered a place at the edge of the pack.
They spoke of a profit, a slice of the bone,
Why die for a master who leaves you alone?

The corruption took root in a silent agreement,
A nod in the dark, a strategic concealment.
Now Adhikari stands tall with a shepherd's fake grace,
While the hunger of wolves hides behind his calm face.
He leads them to water, he leads them to rest,
While picking the weakest to serve for the feast.

The sheep look for safety and find only lies,
In the golden reflection of Adhikari's eyes.
For the worst kind of wolf is the one we have fed,
Who sleeps in our house while he counts up the dead.