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THE URBAN REFUGEE
Way back in nineteen seventy one
As I came to that tri-junction
On the busy roads of Berhampur
I saw the lean and famished bitch
Sitting on its bony haunches
It did not care for whizzing cars
Nor did it mind the mindless bikes
Fear had no place in her tiny heart
The lowly despised nobody’s bitch
I stopped my scooter for a while
To see what makes it fearless
And then I saw the mother in her
Sitting next to her new-born pup
Hit by a bike, or was it a truck?
No blood, entrails- just lifeless form
Then I saw the streak of tears
Down the cheeks of the one without fears
The same tears- and the same haunch
That moved me in that paper-picture
Of the hungry mother, the refugee
On her way to Bangladesh
Hariharan Balakrishnan 06.03.2002