Shudra

The usual dogs go barking in
A condescending tone.
The fat zamindar walks around
Staring, to detest our shadows
In front of his home.

Most refuse to offer us water
And even the virtuous ones serve,
Low-grade beverages in discarded
Cups that are kept outside their
Thresholds, which scream-

Our untouchability, as we're born
Out of the feet of the same God
They worship.
So much hate for a little foot fetish,
That the roads of our streets are..

Deliberately bent away from all the
Temples in the village, to protect
Their religious sanctity.

The intention of our thirst is questioned
At every pond and borewell too.
And even the nature of protein in our food
Comes out as a national issue.

Then the silent gag on our mouths,
The voice stuck like a wad in our throats..

We try to put warm-salt-water to
Gargle it out every election.
But all we can muster up is a
Bad cough that is often syruped down
By luring our votes for money and alcohol.