The Poet, The Ploughman Poem by Bipin Patsani

As I see confronting armies
from among my people
seeking my support,
telling me what they stand for,
I say, be Krishna, be Arjuna,
be Kaurav kin, Karna,
Dhritarastra, Shakuni, Drona
or whatever you like,
I will not take sides, I will not strike
so long as the game goes fair
and all is well.

A lover of human values,
at one with creative fraternity of all
those striving for peace and social justice,
a poet is a kind of ploughman.
His pen is his plough with which
he cultivates aesthetic pleasure,
poetic justice is his harvest, his treasure,
by which the two Poles he binds together.

Honest, impartial and judicious writing
is like tightrope walking in a meditative mind.

So, I stand apart alert and watchful,
expressing my joy when all goes well
and disappointed at times of foul play,
I express my displeasure.

Fare forward friends, be fair,
not that killing a monkey is no sin
if the killer is the son of a Brahmin.

When there is injustice anywhere
and humanity is at stake,
words shedding their softness
crush everything to pieces,
the nasty tricks of lure and deception
and all rapturous recess.