The Poor Gipsy Girl Sucking The Breast Of Malnutrition As Her Mother/ The Daughter Of Sorrow Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The poor gypsy girl living on the market places
Call it poorly or madly
On the platforms and bus-stands
All alone,
Passing the nights,
Wailing with the winds

And into the lap of hers see I a poor daughter,
Oh, the valued daughter of India,
But depleting,
Turning rarer,
Herself a patient of malnutrition,
Sucking the breast of ill-fed, ill-clothed mother,
Used and thrown on market-places
By the modern and materialistically blind marketing men
And marketeers.

None has time to see her, feel the pains of hers,
To hear the shriek of the child
In this age sick hurry and divided aims,
I am busy now,
Of the changing traffic signals
And the stopping crowds,
Yea, into the madding crowds of ugly cities of dirty drains.

Near the office counter, under the canopy of,
On a little bit of earth,
I found her giving the breast to a poorly-fed and kept baby
And the baby being placed over the footstep
Enjoying the shade,
Oh, so much so fatherlessly and without,
Drinking the tears of hers herself,
With nothing to complain against God and humanity!

Oh, that poor and helpless girl compromising with her fate,
Born fatherlessly
On the footpaths, the market-places
To a poor gypsy mother,
Living and growing on footpaths,
Held poor by time, situation and circumstance!

Oh, that poor and helpless girl compromising with the fate,
Born fatherlessly
On the footpaths, the market-places
To a poor gypsy mother,
Living and growing on footpaths,
Held poor by time, situation and circumstance!

The eyes I can see without the tears
As the girl has sucked so much so of tears
And sees she it all,
But complains not,
Lying on the footpath,
Just sees the modern men in their proud gait of theirs,
Priding over their false sens of modernity,
Shallow urbanity and industrial development.
Oh that poor gypsy female baby,
I mean the sorrow of India!