Tag: Jamlo Makdam

  • A Tribute to Tagore in the Time of COVID-19

    In this time of COVID-19 let us recall that poem of Tagore which was a clarion call for fearlessness, adherence to reason, universal humanism and empathy for “Others” who are not us.  

    In this tribute to Tagore I have elaborated Tagore’s original lines (in red, italics and underlined) to emphasize that nothing much has changed in the world. George Floyd’ death in USA and Jamlo Makdam’s death in India brings out the bitter truth that Tagore’s lament is still valid.

    Let us have a world

    Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

    Where any nation state does not lord over others

    Where aggression is not justified by patriotism

    Where visas are not used to deny a human being to meet a loved one

                          Where knowledge is free;

    Where science is not locked down in private enclosures

    Where books are not burned by priests of “Other Gods”

    Where beliefs do not banish logics

    Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

    Where race, caste, tribes, color, language and gods do not create strangers to us

    Where words come out from the depth of truth;

    Where truth evolves and not handed down

                 Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

    Where innovation rules, ideas confront ideas, paradigm changes;

    Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

    Where a child is not to afraid call out an Emperor naked

    Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action

    Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

    Where humans can reach for space and brings and an end to its childhood on Earth

    ——————————————————-

    The last line is a tribute to Arthur C Clarke’s Childhood’s End

  • Cry Jamlo Makdam Cry

    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.

    see here

    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.