Blood on lilies. …… ( to a child-laborer) Streaks of blood on lilies- The wounds on his tender little fingers. Nimble feet, tired and chapped are over-powered in the challenge of race, The race of the world ! Young, blank, tanned hard face… Waxen- white startled eyes, stare at the cruel, cheerless world. He is a bloom, bloomed to die in the harshness of humanity, He is a netted fish, pining to join the brimming river of childhood gaiety and joy ! When half of the Nation sleeps on golden harvest his little hands will never know leisure or rest, and people treat them as worthless reeds when it comes to paying him for his laborious deeds. Sympathy is a rare commodity, Mirth is a mirage, his life is a thorny stem, sans any rose ! His tears out-wash the smiles and laughter which any child is entitled to, He is bound in servile chains, in oppression and pains. He is a CHILD, yet a servitor A child labourer, Is it a human concept to have a child toil for man ??
A Disturbing Poem Ambika, you have done your poetic magic again. This time I not only feel sad but also guilty. We have not done anything to abolish child labour. In a place called Sivakasi near Madurai where match boxes and fireworks are manufactured, lots of children used to be employed. (Now at least the number has come down substantially). It will be mostly girls in their pre-teen and teen years. The girls will live in far off villages and the factory buses will go and fetch them. The bus-trips used to take a lot of time. The girls in the farthest villaged will be picked up at 4 AM to arrive at the work spot around 9 AM. And there will be a rough supervisor all day long. Even if the girl dozes off to sleep he will simply yell and make her work again. Those tender hands which should either handle a flower or a book, will be handling sulphur and pottasium chlorate, all abrasive chemicals. I have seen the hands of these children. all the lines in the hand would simply go away. No palm reading can be done on these girls. Your poem brought back the memories of those days! My friend who is a lawyer was once asked to address a Rotary Club Meeting on the issue of child labour. The meeting took place in a member's house. Before the meeting started tea was served by two twelve year old boys. And my friend when he stood to talk just said that even in a meeting convened to condemn child labour, we are using children to serve tea. Given this hippocracy, he concluded, it is very difficult to find a way out. thanks for the disturbing poem once again. sridhar
Yes, it's a disturbing poem! Hi Ambika, As Varalotti has pointed out, it's a disturbing poem. It is writers like you who knock the conscious of the society to look into such problems, otherwise we tend to forget such things easily. There are many children who are well taken care by their parents, later grow up and ask them 'it was your duty! What special did you do for me?'. They for a moment should think about child labor and those few parents who are also a reason for it. Would they then dare to make the earlier statement against their caring parents? May be my message takes it far off from the topic 'child labor', but for some reason I was reminded of those loving and caring parents betrayed in the old age homes inspite of giving themselves to their children.
Your poem was moving ambika. I have been browsing the internet and many blogs. Poems r posted there too...but all about sex and romance. I understand even they r part of all our lives. But a poem like urs will surely awaken our consciences and makes us aware that there are many people in the world who are literally suffering as we are whiling away our time on our own mundane pleasures. The poem, though only focussed on child labour, also provokes the reader to be reminded that, there are many out there who need a hand. Hope we will be able to play our part in helping atleast one of them in our lifetime. Prathibha
There Cannot Be a Better Tribute Prathipa, there can't be a better tribute to the great poet, Ambika, who is amongst us. Nor could there be a more wonderful response to that wonderful poem. You have entered Indusladies with a bang. All the best Prathipa, varalotti, sridhar
Thanks.. Thanks dear friends for your appreciation. Sridhar, when you called me a 'great poet' I remembered one incident which I would like to quote here. " A woman used to dust an old marble stone which was in a workshop along with the other items. Oneday, one sculptor made a bust of Lincoln with that marble stone. That woman asked the sculptor the next day.."how did you know that Lincoln was there in that piece of marble..?? Actuallythe sculptor appreciated the quality of the marble and simply chipped away here and there to bring out what is there inside... By appreciating someone genuinely you can bring out hidden talents. Oneday, who knows Sridhar, your sincere words of appreciation may come true...but as of now, surely I am not a 'great poet' but a 'sensitive poet'. Thanks a lot..
