The Wretched Poem by Anuradha Bhattacharyya

Everytime
We have an occasion
To contain in
The most diverse
People
Through some uniform law
We confront
Those baulking
Those sulking
And shirking responsibility.
They stand exposed,
Naked in their
Vulnerability
Usually tucked into some
Bookish corridor
Otherwise.
Hordes of people
Emerge from the hovels
Shuffling their
Little bodies
Their small packages
And their stammering hearts
Plunging into
Ineloquent ill temper,
Inviting more and more
Misery
As if the little they had so far
Was also undeserved.