In a heartbreaking tragedy, a 12-year-old child labour – Jamlo Makdam died on 20th April after walking for 150 km from her workplace Bhupalpally in Telengana to her native place, Bijapur district in Chattisgarh. She was working in Chilly fields in Kannaiguda village.

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I have written a poem in her memory.

Cry not -my beloved country- Cry not

                Save your tears

                for Jamlo, the chilly-picker,

She needs them plenty

to keep her walking.

Only a mile afar

 mother waiting to hug her

quench her thirst -before she moves to a land unknown.

Running away from coronavirus, with week’s hunger in belly,

100 rupees tucked in her skirt, bedecked with chilly flakes,

a mere 150 kilometers to walk,

no marathoners to accompany

she is walking, walking, and walking.

On a lonely road

Sun blistering above

With no helpful winds to blow away the heat

She is walking, walking, and walking.

Thirsty blood, tearless eyes

Saliva-less tongue

Still her dream dies hard

home, sweet home and mother awaiting – her final resting place.

Hunger, her best friend, she is not afraid of,

because she must walk, walk, and walk.

Stars are shining

in their AC cooled rooms,

cutting hubby’s hair short, sweeping floors – a first time in life

singing paeans to Lockdown, Lockdown and Lockdown

A 100K like in Instagram -no wonder.

Leaders are busy in their virtual world

With Mask on

Conferring on matters of life and death

gravitas overflowing

may be talking about Michelangelo

and heart beating about Jamlos at large.

But our Jamlo is not even a footnote.

Which country owned Toba Tek Singh?

Gods only know.

Which state owns Jamlo for her to receive some succor?

The answer is blowing in the wind

To her mother’s arm that is the only place on earth she belongs to.