You all are the residents of that city
Who have seen all these scenes
On your shoulders whom you were bringing
Their grave was, I digging
I am the lone person of that habitation
Whose only job is to bury the dead
Perhaps you know how many were…..but
To me even this is unknown at the moment
How many graves have I dug till now
And how many dead have been buried in these
But I know the seived bodies
In the dark night too have I buried
They weren’t shrouded by their dear ones
Neither dear one’s shoulders came to their work
I remember on the chests of each dead
Have I put the soil through my hands
I am familiar with each part
Of that graveyard and can recognise every face
Each gravestone’s sharp memory still I have
But their families are even today
Looking for them in each habitation
They hardly know that they are slept
Thick sheet of blood woren in the ground
They won’t ever return now
The strings of their breaths are now broken
Even today a dead corpse is lying before me
With broken arms, legs and neck
And how many holes have been made in the chest
Blood drops from these falling tip tips
And the eyes look up to the sky
My hands now lack the power
Using the shovel, spade and hoe
Can’t dig a grave for that dead
And bury him with my hands
I ! Gravedigger am how much unfortunate
Infront of whom there is a corpse and I am helpless
Perhaps he has any relation with me
Seeing him has broken my back
Trembling these my hands are
And my legs are powerless
Seems that I am a sinner from head to toe
He is the son and unfortunate father am I
He is the son and unfortunate father am I.
(The author is a teacher by profession. Views expressed him in this poem are his own)
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