Poem: Remains in the River
I write this poem in pain. Considered holy and the most revered among all rivers, Ganges, is the gateway to liberation of souls. But people come and die on their will, then they are cremated on the banks.
With the pandemic raging on, the news that mortal remains of victims are dumped into the water, and floating across, express both the magnitude of the situation and the attitude of the system that is supposed to give a dignified exit to the departed souls.
The souls that departed
Will never know
What happened of their remains
But if they know
Would they weep in sorrow
Or laugh at the living
Who remain back on earth
But have moved on
That they did not give
Dignity to the departed
Would they feel ashamed
That they kicked the ladder
On their way to heaven
The vehicle they travelled on earth
Floating and now bloated
Would they feel satisfied
That they are feeding
The fishes in the river
Or the mongrels ashore
Would they feel vindicated
That their pictures of their remains
Flashed across the world
Throwing light on the horror
Would they feel nothing at all
As they know now for sure
that is the way things were
Are and will be
And nothing can be changed.
The departed souls may or may not have noticed the treatment of their remains. But I shall share the pain of what I saw on television and Internet.
~Ashok Subramanian
