Maid In India
Maid In India


Cuckoo called
Honk of a bus
Dawn has arrived.
I opened the door
The cool breeze caressed my face.
Yet another new morning.
A storm was brewing, unawares
The maid didn’t turn up
Who would do the dishes
Who would do the sweeping and swabbing?
At the tea estate
The manager cursed
“These tribals
They just take off”
Who would pick my leaves?
Who would pick my coffee? cried the farmer
Who would tap my rubber? cried another
Olas, Ubers and Swiggies
Drivers and delivery boys
Startups need them.
Food apps, trendy
The waste aplenty.
class="ql-align-center">The bursting city,
Air and water, a paucity
Tribal girl, now an IAS
Chauffeur’s son in IIMs
Forwards in the whatsapp
India is marching, to where?
There is no alternative to Namo
Says the humble yogi
Ragas, didis are only mayas.
Be a Chowkidhar, says he.
Chowkidhar is chor, says he.
Socialism, communism, an anachronism
What of the capitalism?
New age economists opines
There is no poverty
There is only market
At the bottom of the pyramid.
Change seems to be there
But yet nothing has changed.
Maid in India
Where has she to go?