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Where are you heading, O ye migrants?
Towards an unknown destiny of survival,
Under the scorching sun with blistered feet.
How are you doing, O wealthy merchant?
Spending days leisurely in the comforts of my home,
Until the abundant wealth in my pot dissolves.
What are you doing, O rulers?
Passing the policies by sitting in cozy chairs,
Sending out deepest condolences for your grief.
Why are you worried, O ye common man?
Striving hard to get my ends meet,
Hoping to get my livelihood back.
What are you doing, O doctors?
Staking our lives as frontline warriors,
with immense efforts for the nation, till death do us apart.
What are you dreaming, O rich man?
Of exotic places & beaches, I could visit
If it isn’t for all these laws imposed.
How are you doing, O ye little sparrow?
Wings unlocked, chirpy, and burpy!
Flying high with newfound freedom.
— Chandana