Cold wind 

Fog and invisibility 

Shopkeepers are sitting 

Around fire 

Chatting about farmers

He sells milk

The other one is a tailor 

The silent one is the guard 

Of my apartment building

He reads newspapers in the morning 

He is full of news 

But does not spread his views

Vomiting it on FB 

I am on my usual walk braving the cold wind

I do not understand their talk 

About the current state of affairs on the Sindhu border

My pet pulls me ahead

She is in a haste, it seems, 

To have a bark with the other 

Members of her species 

Wandering on the road ! 

I buy some provisions 

Crystal waits, looks at me, 

As if she does not like to stay at a place for a long time 

She loves moving ahead 

We go home finally 

We have no middle man dealing with us 

We understand each other

There is no politics between us -

Farmers are  no longer pampered by Premchand 

They are rich 

They come in the streets 

To control the fate of Governments

They help journalists shot to fame 

And the journalists are vying for

Veracity and Magsaysay

Washing their dirty linen in public 

In the late afternoon 

The Sun shines briefly and we go home early 

It is cold and windy, the streets are deserted and I saw some figures huddled on the pavement 

Next morning while I was on my usual walk I heard the Guard of my apartment 

   building saying to the tailor and the milk-booth owner who were sitting around the fire 

Since we attained independence the real farmers of the country became labourers 

And heaving a sigh at 

The babble of voices 

In the newspaper

He is fortunate that he has 

No idea of the kind of commotion that is going on 

On FB and Twitter,

While the great writers of the country promote their productions and drop a line or two on their  FB walls and enjoy the insane exchange of words , the world sleeps ignoring the farmer’s stir 

As a routine event

In a democracy! 

@anilprasad

01.02.2021