Real Independence - A Poem

Rinita is a creative writer, with focus on poetry. She delves into several forms including Haiku/Senryu, Sonnets, Free Verse, and Prose.

Background

As I write this, my country India is celebrating its 72nd Independence Day. Seventy-one years after the tricolor was first hoisted in 1947, this day has transformed into a mere Holiday for the country's privileged citizens. We celebrate it as a day of relaxation and enjoyment, and in doing so, we often undermine the contributions of the lesser privileged, who work hard for their daily bread each single day, with no Holidays, even if it is the day to celebrate Independence. Real independence is to be learned from them, who know that being able to work honestly and consistently, on any day, is the mark of being a true citizen of a free country. Jai Hind (Glory to India).

The Poem

“Tring”, the milkman rings the bell

At the crack of dawn, “It’s a Holiday,

Won’t you let me sleep?”, I ask

Says he, “I have another twenty to sell”

The daily newspaper arrives at my door

A slow breakfast, for its company

Afar, the delivery boy counts his cash

While I relish the news and more

The trash has no Holiday, so it seems

In no time, the housekeeping lady

Shows up at my doorstep, with a bin

Into it the trash goes, alongside her dreams

The maid is late, and I am irate

As I rebuke her, she defends,

“My children are performing, I had to attend

The beginning at least, at any rate”

I start up my car, towards the mall

Plans galore, to make it a grand Holiday

A day of pleasure, a day of fun

Freedom to celebrate, an order tall

Stuck at the traffic, a hospital I see

The doctor’s gone, except emergency

The nurse’s silhouette beside a patient

Toiling hard, so would fast recover he

At the mall, I get my nails done

By a pretty girl close to my age

She calls to another, “Take my shift,

Only I promised him I’d be free at One”

I return and park my car, my keys

I hand over to the cleaning guy

“My daughter won a trophy”, he beams

As he wipes the tires, down on his knees

The night falls, I curl under my blanket

Relaxed and ready to work the next day

I reflect on all those, who had to toil,

So I could spend a leisurely Holiday

Real Independence, is in their hands

Who work with honor, and honesty

Real contributors to the daily grain

Are the real people of my country

© 2018 Rinita Sen