Social Justice Poetry

Pijush Kanti Deb

The Rough and Tough Son | A Social Justice Poem by Pijush Kanti Deb

Everything is normal to a mirror
yet to the new eyes
the company stands on the wrong track
allowing traversing of sea-less clouds
above the company’s bald roof
and below
on the land
transferring of the driver’s seat
from the sky-looking father
to the sky-snatching son
the son and his commercial magic
to set the Thames on fire
at the very outset
commanding his obedient assistants
to run in the same groove
setting all confusions and hesitations at rest
from the secret path
linking Eldorado with the company’s treasury
for soliciting a big push
to bring the company again on its right track
immersing the obsolete paternal hymns
of ethics and humanity
and injecting his self-made cocktail –
a mixture of nectar and hemlock,
to turn the walking profit into a galloping horse
and the barren cloud into the fertile one
which must germinate the plant of a smile
on the lips of the rough and tough son.

The Struggle for Existence | A Social Justice Poem by Pijush Kanti Deb

The tree is too generous
to hide its helplessness
and the golden creeper is opportunist
to accomplish its earthly compulsion —
“The struggle for existence”.
as the difference is significant
and debatable too
so accountable are their pains and gains
in the process of their mutual transaction
the tree gets a beautiful golden crown
from the golden creeper
in exchange for a free shelter to it
and the watchful world —
the best judge —
the bewitched evaluator,
proclaims its partial verdict soon
giving the golden creeper
a universal recognition as a struggler
the passive tree gets a slow suffocating death penalty.

Change or No Change | A Social Justice Poem by Pijush Kanti Deb

As trade and business are collocated
with innovative ornaments
and made capable to bloom a wide smile
from lips to ears
on the stern face of my father-
a clever businessman,
so he was pompous to demonstrate
his flying colors
to me and my grandfather
‘’See, the change and enjoy it’’
tempting me to start
enjoying the positive changes cropped up
in the number of factories,
the quality of input,
the size of output and market
and above all
the figure of a bank balance
while my grandfather is depressed
looking at the same images on his mirror
the same fate of an honest partner,
the same long hanging tongues
of the clever partner and a wild fox
shaking their tongues with a dramatic laughter
and the same declining rate of share
for the candid partner
who felt good to regard his friend as a partner.