Who saw it coming?

by Yuyutsu Sharma

Who saw it coming?
A migrant’s song

Who saw it coming
after a weary count of wounds

on reckless rail tracks
as sleep wrestled their feverish limbs

into an early morning sleep ?

Who saw it coming
after a careful count of burnt bread

in the dark hollows
of their exhausted knapsacks

on the full eclipse
of a bleak night ?

Who saw it coming
after miles of walking barefoot

on the flaming tongue
of the forbidden routes

laced with splintered stones
sharp enough to drill a hole

in your Krishna’s nimble sole ?

Who saw it coming
severing motley threads

of their flailing breaths
under the blind stare of a merciless sun ?

Who saw it coming
their meager stocks — charred chapatis,

pouches of moldy rice
sattu of seven cereals,

an ounce
of moth-eaten beaten rice

rotting onions, green chilies,
a pod or two of garlic,

and tiny pudias of sweat-soaked salt
to survive their fearful crusade ?

Who saw it coming
grinding wheels of solid steel

chomping their bony frames
scattering chunks of their mutilated flesh

brittle as branches of a dead tree
their priceless gatheri bundles hollering

million metaphors
of self, soul and salvation ?

Who saw it coming
their lives splintered into multiple pieces

under the threadbare shrouds
woven from spiteful yarns of your designs

darker than the blind night of their lives
darker than the face of the burnt bread

that they had carried
to come alive out of your snare of public lies ?

Who saw it coming
tracks littered with food soaked

in their warm blood unleashed
by your churlish chants and mega-announcements ?

Who saw it coming
worn-out flip-flops on the sullen tracks

staring helpless at the stunned stars
of their aggrieved souls authorizing

a final descent
into the hellholes of their ultimate sleep ?

Who saw it coming,

You saw it coming,
and you, you did nothing about it