It’s May 2020,
Sitting on my couch
dunking a biscuit in tea
flipping through TV channels
Something caught my eye:
”Migrant Worker Dies after walking 500 km to reach home”
-Read the headline!
My hands froze
Eyes Glued to the TV Screen
But the only thing I could see
Or even think of
Were these Questions
Plummeting all over my Brain
Going back home?
But Didn’t he come to the city leaving behind his village to build a
new home for himself?
People who spent their lives erecting these four walls that we call
home don’t even have a roof above their
heads, How is that possible?
Why wasn’t he heard when he was alive?
Was Death the only proof of his existence?
Can’t they just stay wherever they are and not endanger other lives?
Shouldn’t they be held accountable if the number of cases rise in the
country?
So many Questions, But not a single Answer…
But Then I realize
I’ve been holding only one-half of the biscuit
The Other half missing,
Dissolved in the Hot Tea Long ago
Just like we Dissolve
Our Ignorance in Our Hypocrisy
Each day of our lives
But then I dunk the remaining half
Of the biscuit Into the tea
Take a bite!
Start Flipping through the channels again
Because My favourite show’s about to start…