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A Bovine Tragedy
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Dawn to dusk the bullocks drew,
Heavy-laden plough, it's true
Neither heat nor wind it cared,
Only Master's concern it shared.
"My master must grow, the nation glow,
With all the money these crops could flow"
Of this notion the bullocks struggled,
Dragging carts; though hoofs toggled.
"People drink milk - we churn,
Our life-blood squeezed" said cows in turn.
"Delicacies relished, prosperity succeed,
Are the deeds of us-Herds indeed"
Yet the day of agony in store,
For all the hardship it bore
Stacked in trucks, shackled and beaten
Led to slaughter; voraciously eaten.
The pitiable shrunken eyes expressed,
The untold story so long suppressed
"Is your hard work thus regarded?
Mercilessly butchered instead appreciated"
Even the weary bones not laid to rest
Crushed and broken for many test
The hot-sun tanned skin not spared
Seasoned to things all shared.
Life without harvest, no retiring benefits,
Life without rest, none cares to uplift,
Reward for struggle? Our flesh sizzle,
Till death we slog? Gist for trouble.
Jacintha Morris A,
Welfare Assistant
AG's Office, Trivandrum.
Mob 9895278001
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