When Survival's Mercy Enough Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Means just to muzzle up the maws that churn,
Each day dawning with a new-born surprise,
Days and nights both longer turn and return,
Moment stretches long ere deprived it dies.

When younger still, my day's wages were like
Cream upon cake, on bread a sweetened spread,
When my husband alive was oft to strike
Some work, and most days were bright orange red.

The rice brew I now sell seems to decide
If darkling clouds descend or there be shine,
My daughter's coming makes a silver line,
But survival has long been a rough ride.

No, never him nor have I seen a school,
Our daughter, nor ever any a neighbour,
The wages hard if daily routine rule,
And schools looked like wage-devouring labour!

Yet, enough cheap rice for all month I get,
Some kerosene to cook, sugar for brews,
To sweeten black brew for me and my pet—
My dog and I both endure karmic blues.

We had no land, nor yet a shelter fair,
A stroke of luck when we had to migrate—
A long way from Bihar— a no mean dare;
Penniless in some ways seem fortunate!

We're not alone, and fate seems a fair friend,
Life's not a game always of even sums,
We all ere lived in lush green woody land,
We're now amidst a sea of shanty-slums.

But things elsewhere no better are than slums,
Our cities look to me like hatcheries,
Most people survive on no more than crumbs,
Those that make more money mint more worries.

My daughter when I die shall shed some tears,
She has no cause to look up to my death,
I've seen some dying amidst suppressed cheers,
With this solace, I'd breathe out my last breath.

For, who knows, life could have been even worse,
We now at least get to eat some rice brew,
It's blessing if morrows unfold from blue,
Money and means could be no less a curse.
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This poem is based on true story of a poor woman now in her sixties. She is a migrant from Bihar, now in Chennai, Tamil Nadu. This poem is a tribute to millions of survivors like her. Nothing seems to make much difference to their wretched life. It is their sheer survival instinct, perhaps sense of fate and philosophy that keeps them alive. To them survival is mercy enough.
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A tribute | 02.11.10 |