I speak from the landfills, dumpsters and gutters
I speak from the corners you ignore
Because you don't want to acknowledge your contributions
You know you add to it more
Everytime your car passes
Your inner voice rants and screams
But you look the other way
And scrunch your nose up silently
No one wants to make a move
While we live in our fantasies
Away from the rag-pickers and sewage cleaners
Who segregate our waste for a mere salary
Who clean our **** while we throw some more at them
Who are not treated as human
We just want to get rid of things so we throw
Throw on the road, in the rivers and lakes
In the forests, in other peoples' place
We urinate and spit red paan on walls
We do our business on railway platforms
We live in a such a mess
We are such a mess
Our ideology is as filthy as these places
So I'm sorry, for such a disturbing poem
But it's time you better be disturbed
"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny..."
70 years ago, these were Nehru's words