Degradation
There was a time
We used to draw a line
Curvy, wavy, on a piece of paper
And trying all the time
To make it shine and
Keep the paper clean and fine
Taking pride in doing so
Outside the line we let go
Keep looking at the outcome
Till long after it is finished
A sight still fresh and cherished.
No doubt it was a map
The map of our motherland
We saw it breathe and smile
And beckoning all the while
As if to embrace us and
Soothe us with her tender hand
Images raced in our minds
Of Bhagat, Kanaklata and their kinds
With the flag and head held high
Fighting never to disturb others
But to keep that line bold and sharper.
Alas! that line is now almost gone.
Replaced by line of control
Placing of deadly firearms at point blank
With less of interest inside the line
Whatever happening is always fine
Why this hypocrisy! Why, of
Enjoying the benefits and shouting loud
১৩৮ • এজন ডাক্তৰৰ কবিতা
