Busiest But Backward

Busiest
But the most backward
Place is my neighborhood,
Seen very little change,
While, I have passed
From childhood to adult life,
Being a boy,
Collecting leaves for goat
And firewood to burn,
To a university don
And a non-stipendiary priest

Life begins here at dawn
When children and men
Occasionally, also a woman or two
Visit the leftover shrub
To free themselves of the previous day’s grub

This followed by the older folk
With un-fattened cows and slim goats
To graze the almost extinct grass
Then come those who catch fish
By stirring the stagnant pond
While the underfed stray dogs
Keep annoying the already frightened goats
Chained to their fixed posts

Towards the evening
But, only if there is no gun firing
The boys will be seen playing
Re-confirming, and re-confirming
The absence of my neighborhood’s matriarchy

Later as the sun sets
The younger from among the older
And sometimes, even
The elder from the older
Trickle towards this busy camp
For cheaper but illicit strong drink
Patronized by the state’s law enforcing machine

Busiest
But the most backward
Place is my neighborhood,
Seen very little change!

Henry Victor 24.08.1998