The Vagabonds - Poem by Jasbir Chatterjee
Winter has gone.
Spring has gone,
The flowery bushes are gone too;
Their place is now taken up by the vagabonds
With their matted hair, tattered rags,
Drugged blood and bloodshot eyes;
Where they have come from,
How they reached here,
Who their parents were,
Their mothers who once harboured them in their wombs
And cradled them lovingly in their arms after birth,
No one knows.
Blissful, unconscious, and oblivious,
They sleep on Delhi's dusty pavements under a hot, pitiless sun;
Orphaned, nameless, meaningless,
The scum of the city,
Hanging on precariously to lives
That could have created millions.
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