At Esplanade

Last night, I saw,
at our Town Square,
a beggar,
fully naked, sitting on haunches,
and madly scratching
his head and sides…

Tonight at Esplanade
two beggars lying
in the most unimaginable way,
heads resting on amputated hands,
mouths kissing dirt
amid hurrying feet,
sickly legs propped on
a plastic heap…

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I write because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, said George Orwell. As a writer, I never kowtow to the whims and dictates of the sacred godmen or godwomen, the political bigots and hypocrites, dealers of laymen, the dishonest and self-serving intellectuals, traders of religions, the betrayers of ‘other’ Indians who eke out a living by their sweat, who are living in fear for being lynched for this and that.

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