One day I and flies were eating our food together,
Then I realised that the fly is a much greater animal than me. It hopped
On the head of Akbar, and perched on the nose of Ashoka, and of all on the
August body of our great government officer. But I , the poor being
That I am, can never dream of even setting my foot into their premises.
So I thought, the lunch I had that day with the flies was a great honour in my life.

In fact I am a common man, with folds on my face
Furrowed by the plough of life, yet I am a hero, living in a city
Which is a magnificent heap of rubbish where bacteriological germs
Ascend thrones and rule their subjects; there I breathe,
And work, chiselling my poems in my workshop. I am always busy and confused.

The moment I hear the cry of an imploring voice, I break the poem I am working upon
At the time, and rush out. I confront the nakedness of human sorrow,
Rising from rags of torn hopes. I hear the clinking noise of chains in the streets.
I am not worried of my soul, because even if I die it does not suffer.
I am only grieved of my poor body, which shared my sorrows and joys
Through the thick and thin of my life.
It will be eaten up by these political germs.

I share my blood with mosquitoes and eat in company with flies
And in this great political epoch
I am the legendary emperor Bali (sacrifice).
- Seshendra Sharma
http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com
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Gorilla/ modern Indian classic by Seshendra Sharma was published in
1976 when India was passing through the cruel times of emergency
Imposed by Indira Gandhi.