The Illegitimate Child of Distorted Communism and Tricolor

Half burnt smoke

Half wet tears

Half lipped word

Half lived years!


The charred wood of my house

Cried unheard whispers

Who is to blame

When a looter is my keeper!


I eyed her breasts

My food has died

A death of drought

Cursed by civilization!


My mother runs for cover

The twinkle of my eyes

Once matched the gleam

Of her metal necklace!


The only bearing on her body

Is now as dull as my eyes faithless

She ran, tucking me in her tight embrace

Clutching one of her breast

I unlike her, surely knew my place!


The precious mineral beneath

This much-sought-after piece of land

I never could learn to wrest free our lives

From its strangling hand!


The smoke of my burning home

Is chocking the life out of me

Could I  ever really grow into an Indian

Everyone claims to be ‘free’?


It would be not long

When the words will be forgotten

The ‘half’ identity is too heavy of a burden

It would be left here in this very forest to be rotten!


And that would be the end an era

And a culture-demise

Revolutionaries and ‘reformists’ both  are working

For their own interests, only to seize the opportunity as a prize!


Violence is the only resort, everyone comes to

Half-ness of my tears seems doomed too!

(Note: I wrote this poem long ago, inspired from the book- Let’s Call Him Vasu by Shubhranshu Choudhary. It presents the actual events and experience of individuals influencing the dynamics as well as politics of Naxalite area fueled by communism ideals, leading to a scene of constant struggle. Tribal people are bearing the brunt end of the fight and struggle, lacking every necessity and holding their life at stake)


2 thoughts on “The Illegitimate Child of Distorted Communism and Tricolor

  1. It is a tragedy for sure, no one actually helps tribals- everyone claws at them for their own good.
    But naxalites have forced politicians to bribe tribals to stop them from joining with naxalites, may be in a twisted way but they have finally been able to catch some attention.
    Here in Bengal after the maoist activities the tribals all of a sudden became pampered lot and I am one happy person because being born and brought up in a small town I have seen these people, how innocent and exploited they were. finally a little bit of this country’s goodies are being shared with them.
    lets hope they will keep going that way.


    • Hello Sharmishtha, thanks for liking the poem and I can understand that you are writing from your experience, whereas I’m still watching things from a distance. This is something talked about but always under diplomatic covers. And I, being an Indian do nothing else than to feel sorry and write about it. I hope more good comes to these innocent people and they really can understand what they have earned by being an Indian, and not just what they have made to believe due to the politics they are surrounded with.


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