Farmers - the soul of IndiaA Poem by underneathmeThis is about how the food givers are belittled or forgotten and how technology and industrialization are glorified in the modern world.
In digitized and modern India
Where many Indians raised their hands beyond reach, People of 64 thousand villages praised the soil. People characterised with characteristics of tree. Noble by profession, beautiful they became drenching in sun. Making tempo from planting to weeding, Then thunder and lightning joined their groove Adding another track to nature's album Noble they lived on few pennies Content with cattle and merry family . People, rain and sun, the deathly hallows, they believed. People became synonym of narcissists. Self-adulterated, did they spoil the soil with selfishness. Bearing taller and stronger cement vegetation, Soil evidenced the transformation of nobles to nomads. Petrified by falsely authorized people, Nomads reached another soil. After all soil was all they knew. With certain mere discounts and freebies, Routined the same soil life. No happy rhythm; Cries became the new routine. Though they feared people, Still were believers of rain and sun. Sun became too generous. Rain became stingy, And it partnered with floods and storms. Having back stabbed by all, Helpless nobles gave up their lives in their praised-soil. Placing the soul of India halfway to death. Non realizers of the ugly truth still dream for the fancy pink tree, Which is half uprooted already. © 2017 underneathmeReviews
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3 Reviews Added on May 5, 2017 Last Updated on May 5, 2017 Author
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