farmers march2

You shove us, you beat us,
you bury us alive.
Yet we, the farmers of this country
are reborn like that
one resolute corn plant.
You cringe, you grin, you plead
for our votes and notes.
If WE made you win,
WE can make you fall too!
We’re the fields, we, the crops,
then why are we the prisoners
of your whims that cross?
You in snazzy cars chew
peanuts of our sweat,
as your journos dishout rubbish.
Still we feed upon justice
to those geared up cops who
play the second fiddle.

The thicker your water cannons are,
the braver our voices,
our tears…
You flex, you vex, you conspire next,
theatrics and tactics of your lust.
As we go for protests peaceful,
You unleash your vicious violence on us.
As Haryanvi -Punjabi fields merge
to weed out your poisonous play of power,
you forge our farmer finger(foot)prints
as “Separatists”*!Fie on you, power!
We, the soil under this country’s feet,
sing songs of peaceful rebellion.
Dictators! Stop playing possum!
Remember. As you bootlick your corporates,
we congregate, we create, we germinate,
fresh seeds of revolution,
Never dare to muffle us, bend us, or trap us,
in your treacherous trenches.
Don’t you see the soil swelling in our palms?

We need no alms, but
for our rights
our unified voices rise.
Don’t you hear our hoarse calls, don’t you hear,
Democracy whimpering “REVOLUTION?”

(This poem was written in solidarity with the ongoing farmers’protests in Delhi. Also reflecting the farmers’ many voices who called this agitation as a political ‘ revolution.’)

Smitha M, working as an Assistant Professor in English in Government Victoria college,Palakkad, is a poet and film enthusiast whose works have been published in various online journals.

(C) Smitha M



Countercurrents is answerable only to our readers. Support honest journalism because we have no PLANET B. Become a Patron at Patreon Subscribe to our Telegram channel


One Comment

  1. Samir Satam says:

    “We’re the fields, we, the crops,
    then why are we the prisoners
    of your whims that cross?”

    Those fierce lines sum up the essence of the farmers protests. Brilliant poem, Smitha!

Translate »