I'll make this world worth living for a child
This my pledge to the babe.
- Sukanto Bhattacharya (translation mine)
Soot-lined faces that slither into slime
Are strewn over streets full of moss.
Jasmines and lilies are blackened in mud,
In these, our slush-loving lanes.
So how should one strive,
With broom full of words
To sweep up these piles that'll peak?
Dragged by the nettles in quicksand, we clutch
Straws that'll crumble and vanish in a trice.
Splattered into fragments of unbecoming mess
We struggle with an illusion of roots beyond route
That dashes our hopes for shores within reach
And leaden our eyes that had seen.
Left without GPS of destiny untold
We stutter and watch our farces unfold.