Unfair luck
Dog and I have not much difference,
Both of us stand waiting,
Not for showers of rain,
Or blessings from heaven,
But for a piece of Dosa,
That the small road-side vendor would throw,
The anticipation was would victory be mine or dog’s,
If it be dog’s, he would put it on the road and eat,
If mine I would give to my kid there on the platform.
Everyday this is my routine,
My tough war with the brown dog,
I have no strength to shoo him away,
And grab the bounty thrown by the vendor,
I leave my kid on the platform waiting with hunger,
If a Dosa change shape or become burnt,
Me or the dog is in luck,
We wait eagerly looking at the vendor’s hand,
There are days when the vendor never has a mishap,
When both me and the dog curse our luck.
Today might not be so,
Praying all the God’s that I know,
I was sitting along with the dog,
Looking carefully at the vendor’s hands,
For a long time there was no luck,
Suddenly hearing the screech of the pan,
I was assured a burnt dosa,
With all concentration I looked at the vendor,
The throw was perfect and so was the catch,
The dog caught the Dosa, while death caught me.
To get that one mouth of burnt Dosa for my kid,
I fell before a bus with the Dosa in my hand,
Just to see the dog grab it away from me,
As the unfair luck smiled at me,
Letting me die and my kid hungry and motherless…
poem by Leena Bose
Added by Poetry Lover
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