Anarchy

Every season when migrants
Come to my village to cut sugarcane.
The Socio-economic scenario of
My village changes.

The chicken prices go up and
The demand for liquor skyrockets.
Those who know a bit of Hindi
Get a bit of importance and when

Someone from their clan utters
A word of our slang, our faces lit up.

One can see makeshift huts
By the road. Kids in messy clothes,
Unkempt hair- who takes care of
Even smaller kids and a bit older ones
Armed with machetes to cut and
Load cane.

Smoke off the burnt stubble in
The evening and small talk in
The street corners and pan shops
Finding usual, unusual references
To the affairs of our men and
Their women-

The smell of anarchy in the air-
Bit of intermixing with outsiders
Exposing the cracks in our social fabric-
And before the concerns-

Get out of hand. It starts pouring in June.
Our seasonal guests would be gone.
Chicken prices come down as
Monsoons become proper resets.

The turmoil in many homes, over the
Inflated prices and debauchery of men
Settles and the reason for tears in
Many kitchens would be owned by

Just the onions again.