Poems of Krishna Kalamb...Voices of anguish

Suicide statistics are climbing up all over the country. While we are aware of the tragic incidents in metros, which highlight each and every incident, the happenings in the heartlands of the country are unfortunately off the radar. It behooves of a person of the caliber of Sainath to bring them to our attention.
Appended below are the poems of one of the cotton farmers who had to end his life because of the stony silence of the state machinery...and perhaps all of us..

POVERTY KILLS!

Mute calves from Warhad are we

watching the plunder of mothers milk

Drenching earth drop by drop

with our sweat

yielding pearls

yet our babies in hunger fret!

Cotton crop watered by out sweat

knotting 17 tears on our clothes

We farm with our sweat

on the pyre our bodies will only half burn

no money to buy the wood!

Reins of our lives always in the hands of others

While grinding flour

the floors will stain with out blood!

-- Late Shri Krishna Kalamb, farmer poet


HUNGRY BONY BOY

Hungry bony boy

begs his mama for food.

Mama, teary eyed

points to the sun glowing red

Then, give me that bread now

I havent eaten since night

stomach is growling

Let this hot bread cool down son

So far, yet so scorching

it may blister your mouth!

The hot sun journey

and dipped behind the mountain

And waiting for his bread,

bony boy went to sleep hungry again!

-- Late Shri Krishna Kalamb, farmer poet

POEM BY A LATE FARMER POET

Different I am

so unusual my life

my death too, will surprise you

like untimely rain.

Fond of poetry

I exist like the cotton crop

its root sweet

alike the hard stem of sugarcane

Of my death, they will say

how it hangs

like decorations on door frames

-- Late Shri Krishna Kalamb, farmer poet