The Common man. Poem by Nabakishore Dash

Toils very hard daily,
for a cheap simple meal,
gives his sweat and blood
to flood us with tasty food.
Can see the dazzling names
of the big hotels
without ever being
able to intrude.

Builds our roads,
sky scrapper towers,
malls, offices and other
infrastructures.
Sleeps on pavements,
in polythene sheds and
thatched houses not
provided with power.

Very young soldiers,
the sons of common men,
get killed, irreversibly injured
whom we call Martyrs.
The aged and elderly kings,
presidents and Prime ministers
decide and order for wars.

Martyrs are given meagre aids
for their spouses and families
who spend their lives miserably.
The decision makers remain
well protected with many tiers
of security to avail all facilities,
enjoy and live merrily.

Few gun shots,
a garlanded coffin and the name
inscribed on a piece of marble
are all given to the deceased soldier.
Politicians speak high of him,
that too only from their lips,
for a few minutes and never
bother later.
Have they inspired their sons
to sacrifice their lives
in the battle fields ever?

The common man is
the pivot and centre of gravity
of all our luxuries, needs
and requirements.
But he never comes to lime
light and we always discuss
the icons, celebrities.

The rulers and administrators
always want to keep them
where they are, hinder their
progress to become uncommon.
With their votes, pain, labor
they want to keep them common,
make attractive vows in violence and election, and forget their
promises in calms, till
the next election.

They pay indirect taxes,
actively participate in economic
developments of all nations.
But their lot is the same,
throughout the globe,
from generation to generation.

Their number is much more
than half of the total population
of every country and they can
easily twist the results of election.
It is possible that their
upliftment may herald the dooms day of the rich and
the so called uncommon.