The sea
the backdrop of a life
hoping to find the song of life
In the music of the motor boats
the fisherman who casts the net of his hopes
gathers the water crop
erasing and wiping
the nightmare of tsunami
he fixes up shoulders of faith
to his hands cut off torso
longing for light
in the dark journey
competes with the waves
The sea is dream garden
to the summer that gazes at the shore
A blooming lovely fort
Alas..! How does it know
that the song of fisherman has lost its rhythm
the eight rasas have banished the life
and had only given the rasa of pain
To find the fisherman too seems to be a man
but he is the robot that knows the secret of the waters
He is the sea labor
who knows only to cast the net
How does the robot
that bearing a starry eyed torch
on the uneven tidal path
giving away sleep to the skies
And landing up in the seas as a saline brook,
know the tune of the earth
except for the heaviness of life
How does it know the tales of the land mines
except for the secrets of King prawns..?
These are the mynahs that have forgotten their songs
having lost everything to polluted waters
They are the wails of oppressed
who have been looted in the water-scam...!
