The Indian Exodus Poem by Binu Mathew

The World, in grief, hangs its head in shame,
As shameless leaders still hang out for fame,
At the plight of penniless people perishing,
On rails n roads, the death corridors, crashing!

The miseries, brought by midnight lockdown,
Exceed the woes caused by COVID crackdown,
Worse than the Exodus, when wheels not invented,
As the political will to ferry them back, not initiated!

This lockdown, in thickly crowded metros, caused,
Incubation of virus, like seedlings in nurseries raised,
Before distribution to more people in rural areas!
Bad decisions, like weeds, thrive in clay-filled areas!

Caught between life n death, the bewildered millions,
With lifelong savings wrapped in rags, in battalions,
Trod on melting roads, with weary soles, as the nation,
Lost its soul, towards distant villages in quick motion!

Blaming their stars, the migrant workers, strong-willed,
And stubborn, went on their long march to poverty filled,
Villages, miles away, challenging the scorching sun,
Ignoring hunger, thirst and fatigue but cursing none!

Some cycled, others hitchhiked but scores on foot crushed,
By trucks n trains, scattered on pitiless paths like crushed,
Melons! A few dispersed by cops, wandered helplessly,
As millions in glass houses watched the fly-past, heartlessly!

The forsaken folk, too timid and illiterate to blame,
Endured their manifold miseries, without shame,
And praised the king, claims better than best in the west!
Dudes! One may still look fine, compared to the worst!

You aren't a leader if swift action not taken at right time,
Not a scribe if it isn't hot news networked at prime time,
Not a judge if suvo motu not taken with a moral compass,
Not a servant if unmoved by hardships that encompass!

The nation's strength lies in the spirit of audacity,
Displayed by a teenage girl of beauty and vivacity,
To carry her wounded father, to their torn out,
House miles away, on a bike, old and worn out!

As poor people not in pandemic priorities,
Get no proper relief in time, from authorities!
Planning needs many brains but the announcement,
Just a tongue, to push the poor in a predicament!

The homeless asked to go home quarantine,
Jobless to work from home, days umpteen,
Slum-dwellers to keep physical distance,
And beggars, good hygiene, without defiance!

Social distancing, an urban myth for slum dogs,
And home quarantine a cruel joke for underdogs,
Who crawl into culvert pipes, evading watchdogs,
To rest the exhausted body, that toil for overdogs!

Not proud to be an Indian until the alarming disparities,
Social and economical, cease to exist and high priorities,
Given to values the land upholds, ensure fair treatment,
To seat all compatriots harmoniously in one compartment!

Vande Mataram