— Harabilash Sarkar
Says my son, he will return to house
Called yesterday,
“Mother, Food been exhausted before twelve days,
How much money was in hand?
It’s to be spent to buy biscuits and flattened rice,
If it does not work, why the owner will pay more?
There is no way back home, all the vehicles that are off,
I had to leave the living room too,
Now under the open sky under the trees, sometimes spending the day on the platform,
A little water is the only hope of saving lives,
The people of other state are not allowed to touch the water tap,
Road without people, where can I get some water!
I am terrified of the police,
But mother, don’t worry about your son,
With your blessing your son will be well,
How much you endure storms and water, how much you endure the cold of the month of Magha, whom you have brought up,
Like a bird lost her nest
You hold the helpless child in your arms,
Can he be harmed?
I found out,
The rich man’s sons are stuck abroad,
Special flights have been arranged for them,
I thought,
This time lakhs of workers will also return home
By the train for free.
The restrictions didn’t come to mind,
When we have to die of starvation, is there any fear of death?
That’s why the unfortunate ones gathered at the railway station,
Thousands of cries, supplications, and prayers did not melt one’s heart.
Rather the punishment was arranged.
The forehead was slightly torn by the blow of the stick, the bleeding stopped,
The pain is still there,
Don’t be afraid mom, your son is fine,
Ma’am, you’ve got more injuries than that,
You have taught me how to bear all the pain.
Let me give you a little hope,
One and a half of month house arrested has started today,
When night falls, the full moon rises in the sky,
How many of us will walk in that light,
Thousands of miles, I’ll be right back in a few days. “
Mother’s chest bursts,
A month and a half of house arrest in the wrath of the extreme ‘Corona’,
How much longer! not know,
What a sleepless night!
How long has been starving?
Yet today it is like a downpour in the hot desert,
Her hunger is gone,
Skeletal grandchildren standing next to him with teary eyes,
He pulled her close to his arms and hugged her and said –
Grandpa, sister – my son is coming.
Got five kilos of rice, ‘help’,
She called her mother-in-law and said, “My dear mother,
You are the luck of my house,
Leave some rice,
Cook on the day my boy will return home,
The mango tree in the yard planted my boy,
This is the first time a mango has borne,
The edge of the stem is turning yellow, give it to him that day.
Then just look for the way,
Blurred vision,
The corroded body has become an immovable stone,
The rice in the rain-soaked jug is rotten,
The mango of the tree also fell from the hailstorm,
The day the moon finally sank into the darkness of the new moon,
Pushing that darkness, glittering in the intense light
Under strict guard, with royal honors
My son came and lay down on the couch of heaven,
Be admired in flower garlands.
The trees of the quiet countryside mourned today, the roll of weeping rolled around,
The mother heard the son calling her ‘mother’,
He came closer and removed the white cloth and saw that the boy was sleeping.
‘Sleep, my son, how many nights have you not slept, how much fatigue, take a little rest’.
Careful hands on the head, soft affection,
‘Ah! My son haven’t eaten for a long time, stomach is stuck to his back,
The eyes are stuck in two holes, the soles of the feet are sore,
My dear son, this time everything will be fine. ‘
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