Hunger, Miseries & Obituaries: An April of Doom


I. A daily wager
Die you rich bastards,
for you have hoarded all the food,
to god, will tell my starving daughter,
the Rich killed us before this virus could.

II. A dying man in Gaza
The last memories of my land are fading,
I wish this virus bring down the wall.
a million ways to die under occupation,
is this the freedom, after all?

III. An anxious social worker
So many dead; many more suffering,
city on lockdown; the poor starving,
shoot at sight for the one infringing,
take the bullet; my heart keeps whimpering.

IV. A migrant Labour
My son over my shoulder,
starving, for hundreds of kilometres,
hundreds more to go till I see you mother,
pity me, god, may I survive the hunger.

V. A grief-stricken half widow
Three years, I have spent waiting,
for the footsteps, to return approaching,
out during the curfew, he went buying,
a packet of milk, my son, keeps starving,
this lockdown on my heart is a winter never-ending.

VI. A startled rich guy
Oh, look! A crow is cawing,
from far-far away, his voice piercing,
greener plants; the sky is shining clearer
the beauty of childhood returned, has the April of life begun?

VII. A struggling theatre artist
Rent day is approaching
no shows, no more bookings
no roles left, except to play my own,
I’ll return home, to teaching; shall I survive this the April of doom.

VIII. A  struggling writer
No one dies of hunger,
none left without a shelter,
if I could write a world,
where no one is poor.


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