MARXISM

Ascetic's Song

By Ahuti

Genre:Poem

I wrote poems

            not for daily bread

I planted my poems

            not in rice begging bowls

                        set before glutted ones

I planted poems

            in the brows of the children

Glutted ones may say

            Not poem/not song

            I sang only slogans

But the ravaged nipples of my mother's breasts bear witness

            I sang a new way of life

What have I to fear?

            I sang the song of the hungry ones.

There in the contented one's dwelling

            development slogans blaring

Here in the poor one's dwelling

            flames of hunger flaring

throbbing like a festered wound

            painful life

Hopes of a tasty scrap to eat in this life

            burning like blisters

            in the children's eyes

There levelling guns

            at suffering ones' doorways

            haughty murderers getting intoxicated

Here Mangale Chepang's daughter coughing in waves

            all the night long

Development slogans fired like bullets

            slamming into her chest

Numb from coughing all the night through

Chepangi daughter

            able to cough no more/

            retching from her gut

            vomiting time and again

Had there been a hot scrap

            for her stomach

she too would be smiling

            a moon-like smile

But unable to digest

            development slogans

            on an empty stomach

What befell the wretched one!

Scratching at her mother's lap/

            surrendering life with two tear drops

In this time

            the hearths of the suffering ones

            thus fouled

Standing in tears

            how can I sing

            a song of contentment?

At the word of courtiers

            to beat the drum

on feet as if fettered

            by ankle bracelets

how can I dance before the palace?

Oh! How can I auction myself

            for a few coins?

And so, in this time

standing in tears

            of the suffering ones

I sang poems of liberation/sang songs

            that plant a moon just like pure gold

            in the brows of the children

Let the courtiers say

            I sang only slogans/sang protest

But the ravaged nipples of my mother's breasts bear witness

            I sang a new way of life

What have I to fear?

            I sang the song of the hungry ones.

There haughty murderers' gun muzzles

            singing songs of peace

here load-crushed aching spines

            absorbing bayonet wounds

There the landed ones

            passing out promises of independence

here in the dark chamber of the torture house

            crushing my beloved friend

Had doves of peace truly taken wing

my friend's dreams too

            would be dancing in the sky like rainbows

Had the flower of independence truly blossomed

on my friend's lips too

            a thousand moons would be smiling

But after songs of peace

            issued from murderers' gun muzzles

false promises of independence

            slammed into a heart made cold and rough

What befell the wretched one!

Scratching at the ground

            passing blood clots from his mouth

bedecking his eyes with the morning's dreams he's surviving

            in the dark chamber

like a seed in famine

In such barbaric times

standing close by the martyr's grave

how can I sing false songs?

Standing before erect Sagarmatha

How can I

            like a sniveling coward

            survive by bowing my head?

Oh! How can I forgive these evil ones?

If not to blare forth the call

            of fresh blood stains on the shawl

            of a raped wounded naked sister

If not to insert the vows

            of bayonet-wounded bloody hearts

Why do I now sing a song? Why sing a poem?

Why insult my own pen?

And so in this time

standing close by the martyr's grave

levelling heart's stem

            at the landed ones' gun muzzles

to plant a moon just like pure gold

            in the brows of the children

I sang the devotion of martyrs

sang a poem not to be left unsung

Let the glutted ones say

            I sang not songs only slogans/

            not poems only rebellion

But the ravaged nipples of my mother's breasts bear witness

            I sang a new way just like the victory of light

What have I to fear?

            I sang the song of the hungry ones.

Analysis:

               This poem was written in 1990. It tells about the oppression being experienced by the people. The poem describes thr hardships during those time. It tells slavery within a given culture. how the women were being raped. The people being killed without giving a chance to fight and seek justice.The author of this poem shows his rebellion and disappro through writing this poem.