Magic Morsel - A Tale in Verse
Background
Through this supernatural tale, I tried to bring forth the plight of migrant workers and starvation issues in my country, which have been at their peak since the onset of the current pandemic. The lockdown has worsened the lives of these daily wage workers and all we can do is pray that things return to normal soon.
Piece of Bread
The Poem
I
Over diverse lands they walked
At times on sodden, at times on dry feet
Rested they not, as time was short
Official deadlines they had to meet
Ramakanth was one of the group
Of migrant workers now heading back
There was no work with the virus spread
Three days of food remained in his pack
On the third day, a comrade took ill
Ramakanth benevolently handed him a bread
He was saving the last piece for his daughter
Who slogged hungry at home in his stead
II
They separated at the border, he walked alone
The last couple of morsels now a foe
He couldn’t walk an inch without a bite
Yet his daughter’s face prevented him so
That night, under a dull sky, he lay his aching body
Hunger prevailed and caused his soul to break
He gulped down the last morsel and closed his eyes
All that remained were a few crumbs in its wake
And then he dreamed, oh, what a dream it was!
It was as if he was at the landowner’s yearly feast
Plates full of delectable food, served at ease
Biryani, Poori, Halwa, Jalebi, how much could he eat?
His stomach was full, but the food kept coming
The cuisine was fantastic, ambrosia at its purest
He knew he should stop, but he went on eating
To stop would be to say ‘no’ to the event finest
III
He woke with a start, to a timid sun at the brink
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The dawn felt surreal, was he dead untimely?
The aches returned as he stood, refuting the doubts
Yet he found his first step incredibly sprightly
Soon the walk turned to a jog and then to a sprint
His active limbs gladly the remaining journey bore
As he entered the boundaries of his cottage
He felt fatigue no more, hunger no more
There she stood at the gate, Amilia, the daughter
A field hand at the village, her pale eyes spoke
Of days of unattended starvation and solitude
Waiting, wandering, lingering around celestial smoke
IV
Amilia greedily opened her father’s pack, his face fell
The teary-eyed girl stuck the last crumbs on her thumb
Wordlessly she licked them as if it was her first meal
And kept suckling until her thumb was numb
Her frail body gave way and she fell into a slumber
Ramakanth held her hand and began his prayer
Although it was daybreak, doctors were non-existent
The virus had wreaked havoc on the country’s healthcare
For hours he sat at her bedside, until moonrise
When suddenly her bony fingers moved in his hand
The girl sat up, weak but jovial, smiled in the dark
And described a dream of a feast much like the father had
V
In a few days, their little land was tilled
Father-daughter toiled hard to cultivate food
Whatever they could, they distributed in the village
They were never hungry and no one starved for good
“One day”, thought Ramakanth, “this will be over”
And they kept looking forward to that golden sun
The magic morsel transformed their lives so
Their starving days were long gone and outdone
© 2020 Rinita Sen
