Unrequited love, of the soil, whose tales
Toiled by the tiller, till, alas, forgotten
On blistered land, how shall it bear bales?
With gory spits, of travails, tainted, crimson cotton
Why he bartered his soul, for a million Rupees?
Loan shark’s last laugh, why had he begotten?
Why regimes failed him, climates did, when fleece?
Farmer’s haunting disease, this crimson cotton
Why he nurtures, soul of mankind?
When his spirit beset, destiny undone
By a nation’s conscience, gone blind
A living maligned, by crimson cotton
Demeaned? Yes! Cultivator’s clan
Measly means, sum a yarn, unspun
Unschooled lingers, posterity’s plan
To an endless span, reap crimson cotton
To end it all, avows soil, its utmost toll
Son of soil, at last, lost, a battle never won
Hanging numb, alas, dumb, to beg for dole
For his kin, but just begun, tryst with crimson cotton
Wouldn’t it bloom, this spell? O’ Lord!
Will the cotton wilt, under sizzling sun?
“Behold the blood fest, soil’s reward
Gallons galore from the growers gored
Rendered adored, most crimson cotton”
© 2015 Vikas Chandra