Like a scattered rough hair
it is a zigzag forest without fear
but seems like a combed hair
in between the green tress
The huts with sleep of solace
are being swallowed by corporates,
only to be replaced and recreated
with modern-artificial-commercial ethnic art
for the privileged gated communities.
Bamboo baskets in posh MNC stores
pour incessant rain of dollars
Now, forest is not about , not about,
Bamboo tress and wild creatures.
It is not about beautiful birds,
not even the hamlets of innocent and ignorant tribals.
Now, forest is filled with sounds of harsh bullets,
where, the god of forest is murdered by Dynamites, and
the goddess of forest is raped by the Khakis.
Forest is standing lonely and desperately,
in front of the courts for weightless natural justice.
Hapless Kids of hamlet are fighting hungrily,
for the left over biryani packets.
The land upon which they are standing,
is being grabbed in-front of their eyes.
Though the lives of hamlets are at crossroads,
forest still awakens at night for GREEN dreams.
Blogadda as one of the Tangy Tuesday Picks