Dear Crococh, I am DONKEY

-

 


I am the donkey they call the People,

Carrying a nation like a mule carries a load.

Everyone climbs upon my back,

Then wonders why I travel such a crooked road.


I carry your leaders, one by one,

I carry your promises, every one.

You shout, “Give us our rights!” with pride,

I shout for rights like a trumpet in a parade,

But when duties arrive,

I disappear like a shadow in the shade!

“Sorry, I’m outside!” 


“Give me freedom!” I proudly cry,

But freedom without responsibility

Is like giving a child a matchbox 

and asking the house to stay dry.


You tell me, “Follow the law!”

I nod my head like a saint in prayer.

But when the traffic light turns red,

I look around-

“Is the policeman there?”

If the cop is watching,

I behave in an angel in a courtroom.

The moment he turns away,

I fly like a goat escaping a wedding feast! 


“Pay your taxes!” they tell me.

“Yes, yes! The nation needs my share!”


But when the tax bill arrives,

I become  invincible  magician-

my money disappears into thin air!


I demand perfect roads and bridghes ,

Hospitals, schools and light,

But paying my share?

“Why me? I'm poor,Ask my neighbour or rich !”


Oh, what a clever donkey I am! 

My demands are as big as an elephant,

My contribution as small as a mosquito. 


Public property belongs to everyone,

So naturally, I treat it like it belongs to no one!


I carve my name on the wall,

Scratch the bus and tear the seat,

I throw my garbage into the street.

Then I stand proudly and complain like a king:

“Why is this city so dirty?”

Even the street looks at me and says,

“Brother, you did that!” 

Oh, my hypocrisy is as flexible as rubber! 


I plant one little tree,

Take ten selfies beside it,

Post:“SAVE THE PLANET!”

The poor seedling waits for water

like a thirsty traveller waiting for a well.

The little tree whispers:

“Dear Friend ,give me some  water, please.”

I tell it:“Wait, my friend-

I have another selfie to edit!

My network is slow!” 


Then comes Election Day.

Ah! My favourite festival!

Suddenly I become important ,

everyone remembers me.

Leaders surround me

like bees around a flower.


They shake my hand.

They call me “My beloved People!”

Yesterday I was a donkey.

Today,I am KING!

They promise development

before tomorrow night!

except the moon-

because apparently the moon is already booked! 


“New roads!”

“New jobs!”

“Development!”

“Golden future!”

Their promises rise like fireworks in the night—

bright for a moment,

then gone with the smoke.


I clap.

I cheer.

I vote.

I believe.

Then five years pass

like a train that forgot to stop at my station.

I ask:

“Where is the road?”

“The file is moving.”

“Where is the job?”

“The committee is studying.”

“Where is the promise?”

“Please come back next election!”

And I stand there-


like a customer holding a receipt

for a meal that never arrived. 

But wait…


Why should I blame the rider alone?


Who sold the vote

for a little cash?


Who chose hatred

and called it patriotism?


Who voted for caste

and forgot humanity?


Who chose caste

like a football team?


Who chose hatred

like a favourite television show?


Who forwarded rumours

like a Telgram machine gun,

without checking whether they were true?


Who complains about corruption

but searches for a shortcut

when nobody is looking?


I point at the politician

with one finger-

and forget that three fingers point back at me.


The politician rides the donkey.

That is true.

But here is the painful truth:


THE DONKEY CHOOSES THE RIDER.


And that donkey-

is me.

So perhaps I must change.


I cannot demand clean streets

while throwing rubbish like confetti.


I cannot demand honest leaders

while selling my vote like a bargain product.


I cannot demand justice

while respecting it only when it benefits me.


I cannot demand freedom

while stepping on somebody else's freedom.


A democracy without responsible citizens

is like a car without brakes-

powerful, exciting…

and heading for a wall.


So, young friends,

listen to this old donkey.


Don't just ask:

“What will my country give me?”

Ask:

“What am I giving my country?”

Think before you vote.

Check before you forward.

Question before you believe.

Respect before you judge.

Participate before you complain.

And remember:

Democracy is not a five-year festival.

It is a daily responsibility.


For years I carried everyone

like a tired old donkey carrying sacks.

But now,I open my eyes.


I will not carry whoever jumps on my back.

I will choose the rider.

I will choose the road.

I will choose the direction.

And if the rider takes the wrong road-

I will stop.

Because I finally understand:

I am not merely an animal

carrying a nation.


I am the People.

I am the voter.

I am the citizen.

I am part of the democracy

I keep complaining about.


So don't laugh at the donkey.

Look in the mirror.

Because sometimes

the donkey is not the one being ridden.


Sometimes-

THE DONKEY IS THE ONE CHOOSING WHO RIDES.

And when the People finally wake up-

THE DONKEY TAKES THE WHEEL. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dream on an Abacus

-
Image
The quiet rhythm of our hands, Life dances on an ancient strand. Rows of moments, grains of plans, Beads of hope, of sorrow, of grace, Each one finding its rightful place. We slide and pause, we push and pull, Each small move makes the spirit mull. We add our joys, subtract our fears, Recounting dreams across the years. We push ahead for dreams we seek, Pull back for lessons, strong or meek. Some beads may fall-loss counts the same, Some softly glow-our gains we claim. A wrong move shifts the sum astray, Yet careful hands can find the way. We learn again, we start once more, Recover sums we lost before. Time clicks gently, bead by bead, Counting loss and hope and need. Time whispers low, counting stars, Measuring joys and hidden scars. Not all the sums are clear or fair, Yet wisdom grows with patient care. No perfect sum, no final line, Just moments woven-yours and mine. So let us move with gentle grace, Embrace the beads we choose to chase. For in this dance, through loss and gain, We...
Read more

One Rain, One Rhythm

-
Image
  You called me the melody, yet it was your quiet shore that gave my wild notes a place to land. I sang to the clouds, yes, but only because I felt your silence listening. You were a steady vessel, holding every fragile line before it fell to pieces. If I was the song, you were the air that carried it; if I was the storm, you were the earth below. You drank the heavy skies without asking for a single drop in return. You speak of the rain bird waiting for the storm, but forget that even the bird looks for a twin. Without your wings beside me, the sky is only endless altitude, cold and pathless. I did not teach the tide to rise- it was your unseen gravity that pulled the deep out of me. I did not become the storm alone; it was your emptiness that called the water down. Do not call yourself merely the wind beneath my flight, or the silence between my notes. You are the tonic key on which the whole symphony rests. If my voice trembled, it was only resolving back to your root. If I circ...
Read more

The Alappuzha Lighthouse Sings

-
Image
  A sentinel of stone, where oceans meet the sky, It tells a tale that time cannot deny. From ancient hearths, on cliffs where embers gleamed, To Fresnel's fire, a brighter vision dreamed. Its very being, built for duty's call, To stand unflinching, through the rise and fall. The keeper Kuttan came, a solitary soul, His quiet vigil, making spirits whole. He polished brass, and trimmed the wick with care, A human pulse, dispelling ocean's snare. Through sunlit calm, and fury of the gale, He spun the beam, a never-ending trail. The churning gear, the lamp's hypnotic sway, A silent promise, through the night and day. He knew the fog, its clammy, cold embrace, And sounded warning from that lonely place. Each passing ship, a whispered, grateful plea, A bond unbroken, keeper and the sea. Now silent motors hum, where footsteps trod, A different cadence, from the hand of God Of progress swift, the human touch withdrawn, A flashing pulse that guides from dusk till dawn. Yet in t...
Read more

Echoes of the Hunt

-
Image
She moves through morning light, a whisper of dust motes in the sun. But shadows, unseen, cling to her steps like a shroud. Eyes, not merely keen, but honed blades of scrutiny, carve into her, words, not just traps, but snares of silk and venom, coil around her breath. A cityscape, a concrete jungle, becomes a web of grasping hands, a silent, predatory ballet where 'no' is a forgotten echo, a word stripped of its shield. They name her prey, a hollowed sound, a label etched in bone, not skin. But her spirit bleeds, a battleground where silent shrapnel tears, not the soft surrender of a feast. Her skin, a canvas etched with unseen script, remembers the unspoken, the truths that silence dared to bury deep. Bruises bloom, not merely on the flesh, but where the delicate tendrils of trust once stretched towards the sun, now withered, choked, by a sudden, brutal frost. He, the hunter, wears the tailored cloth of power, a scent of ambition, sharp and cold, a perfume that chokes the nas...
Read more

The Condom is the Conundrum(A Poem in Many Voices)

-
Image
They said in school, in chalk and charts, "Be smart, be safe, protect your parts." We giggled then, too young to see The veil between "just you and me." We laughed at packs with names like "Fire," "Ultra Thin," "True Love," "Desire." The wrapper popped — a rubbered rite, A killjoy in the heat of night. My friend Funny voice: “You got one?” “Yeah.” “It’s old.” “It’s fine!” We fumble through the great design. It squeaks, it slips, it feels like doom — Mood-killer king of every room. But pause — beneath the clumsy jest, A softer truth begins to rest. My poetic and Romantic voice: He touched her face, she touched his hand, Two people trying to understand. Not just protection, but a vow To guard the love they’re building now. Yet love’s not always soft and pure — Some use, discard, repeat, endure. My Dark voice: A stranger’s name, a motel bed, A life unlived, a word unsaid. The condom shields, but also shames — A whispe...
Read more

My Promise to You

-
Image
  A tapestry of trust, a bond so fine, With honesty's soft thread, forever entwined. Be true, be kind, in every spoken word, For sincerity's embrace, a treasure to be stirred. In relationships' embrace, let truth take flight, Mutual respect, a guiding, gentle light. For in the depths of trust, a love will bloom, A garden nurtured, in a verdant room. Though shadows fall, and whispers fill the air, With silent slights, and doubts beyond compare, Smile at the scorn, with grace and gentle heart, For time's great hand will play a crucial part. The path of life, a winding, hidden maze, Where secrets sleep, and futures hold their ways. One knows not what the morrow may unfold, Nor what the future will, in its story, hold. The biggest mystery, a whispered, silent plea, Is what the unknown, will bring to me and thee. For in this journey, where questions softly call, We wander onward, with faith's strong thrall. So let your spirit shine, your heart take flight, With honesty...
Read more

A Painted Promise

-
Image
  There is nothing else on Earth that displays color differences like a rainbow In skies where tearful clouds still weep, A hidden marvel starts to creep. With sunlight's kiss and gentle rain, A rainbow blooms—a brief refrain. Its colors burst, a joyful arc, From vibrant red to violet dark. Each hue a whisper, pure and bright, A melody that sings of light. No earthly sight can match its grace, Born of light and rain’s embrace. A brilliant crown on sky’s deep blue, A fleeting bridge in every hue. It spans the Earth and heaven's high, A spectrum drawn as dreams drift by. With every shade, a tale unfolds— Of hopes reborn, of hearts made bold. So when the storms have gone their way, And sunlight breaks through clouds of gray, Look up and find that bright cascade— Nature’s wonder, unafraid. A painted promise, freely spun, Its light begun in everyone. A timeless truth the colors bend— A fleeting gift the heavens send. The seven hues that grace the skies Reflect the soul in human guis...
Read more

My Unwavering Shore

-
Image
Those who go across the sea, Those who go for unseen gold, What will you bring when you return? Will your hands be full of ruby stones Of mermaids from the Milky Ocean's waves? Will you bring the song they sang, That melts salt from a sailor’s heart, A melody drawn from the ocean's mind, Whispered through depths where shadows bind? Or a secret folded in conch-shell curves, To echo on my waiting windowsill, a calm resolve? Tell me, will your eyes still hold that southern starlit map You followed past monsoon dreams, That ancient wisdom only oceans keep? Or will they turn, like tide-washed shells, Smooth and empty, gleaming — but gone, Lost to currents, unknown to my gaze? I do not ask for gold or pearls, Nor chains of sunken emperors’ pride. Bring me silence, shaped by distance, A truth as deep as the sea's own mind, that doesn’t lie. Bring me the echoes of your solitary stride, Reflecting thoughts only my heart understands, of what endures inside. Most of all, b...
Read more

The Halfway Mark

-
Image
 Failure's not from lack of try, But quitting when the goal is nigh. Life stretched before me, bright and vast, Why did I think this moment wouldn't last? Why didn't I grasp, with clearer sight, The true extent of the coming fight? The bitter sigh, "Why did I let it cease?" A ghost of chances, robbing inner peace. But know, dear heart, that wisdom's born of pain, Each stumble fallen, lessons we can gain. Don't bind your soul to what has passed and gone, The rising sun still heralds a new dawn. Acknowledge sorrow, let it softly mend, Then turn your gaze to where your journey's end. When half-way falters, and the spirit tires, Recall the spark that lit your first desires. Not lack of strength, but a forgotten aim, That dims the fire, douses noble flame. Divide the mountain, into smaller hills, Each conquered rise, a strength that gently fills. The smallest step, when taken day by day, Will carry you beyond the weary way. The sprawling map, unknown when f...
Read more