SATIRE
Life
of a rickshaw puller yet graceful,
A
small cottage thatched roof was built,
Wall
with clay and bricks cleaned,
Polished
with mud cow dung lovely,
Red
soils coated the walls beautifully,
Chalk
paintings decorate the front balcony,
Earthen
oven wood fire its warmth,
Charcoal
bunt potatoes and eggplant,
Mixed
with onion and tamarind,
Added
a few mustard oils, the menu,
Boiled
rice cooked then with water,
Prepared
to be sour with curd and salt,
Chilly,
onion, salt, dried sour mango,
The
paste is a sweetener for taste buds,
Fried
tiny fish with mustard paste,
Burned
in charcoal burning simmer,
The
meal is our lunch and dinner best,
Kerosene
lamp lantern very convenient,
A
torch, an umbrella, and a radio,
Margosa
tree behind our house,
The
twigs are the best toothbrush,
With
charcoal powder for family,
My
wife is a domestic servant to a neighbor,
A
cloth merchant three-storied building,
Immeasurable
wealth, large family,
Busy
people, very rich, we found,
Under
their shed living in peace,
I
take their children to school on time,
Kids
love me, call me uncle, and make fun.
We
couple get monthly salary well,
My
wife sweeps the floor, cleans utensils,
My
two sons read at primary school,
My
life family is happy and contented,
My
rickshaw is my lifeline, survival,
In
the big city, every morsel of food paid for,
Manages
my family life, kids studying,
Mending
poor lives is honestly joyous,
We
feast happily on the straw mat,
Sleep
on the floor on these straw mats,
A
few cotton blankets, thick sheets,
A
few cotton pillows with cover clean,
A
tube well at the backyard toilet,
Marked
our neighbor as rich, unhappy,
Fighting
over property all day,
Their
mother is quite old and often cries,
With
all ornaments, the property is sad,
Sick
because of miserable life visible,
Intolerable
for us, sadly watch tears,
Alone
in a big room teakwood cot,
She
sleeps on the floor mat her habit,
One
day gave us a bundle of currency,
Requested
to keep it secret totally,
A
few weeks after my wife gets angry,
Demanded
gold chain a saree urgently,
Speechless looked at her surprised,
It
was not her nature but corrupted,
I
discovered satires life eludes this way,
A
simple bundle of currency changes,
The
satire I found to the reason,
The
root of the unhappiness of our mistress,
That
plundered our family peace!
Title
of the Poem: Satire
Pen:
Bijayananda Mishra
Theme:
Money satire of human life
Date:
19th November 2022, Cuttack.
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