The Crisis of survival

(dedicated to so many farmers who have commited suicide)


His auburn soil
And yellow tractor
Rusty shovel
Digging harder

Tilling toiling
Dawn to dusk
Sowing seeds
Removing husks

Sprinkling water
Thirsty crops
Heavy breathes
Sun shining hot

His brow shined
Out of sweat
Folds on the head
Worry of debt

The anxious gaze
Up in the sky
The watery eyes
The fighting pride

The silent lunch
Under the shade
The puckish feeling
The unfair fate

The sundown journey
That strange smile
Strained legs
And the pain inside

That hazy night
He ploughed himself
Earth awaited,
But he never arrived