First, we will pollute our Earth with desire
We will pretend that we need more, more and more
We will race to possess, consume and accumulate
Then we will look up at the rotting soil and black skies
And rush to buy N95 masks
We, the troubled commoners of Delhi,
Will already be used to schools shutting down
Before the virus comes our way
And when the world readies itself for a crisis
We will blink with the uncomfortable comfort
of having done this before.
As we stay inside
And pace around our privileged balconies
We will look down at workers carrying their lives on their shoulders
Fleeing with empty stomachs from places that had promised them food
They will meet our eyes the way our empty hands met
People full of money who refuse to pay salaries for ‘work not done'
Their faint gait and slipping energy may not cause us to grieve
But we will grieve at the lack of places to eat and shop at
“What do I do to feel better this month?” We’ll ask
Fleeting compassion, meanwhile, will fly out of our windows
And join the dust blowing in the faces of the fleeing migrants —
Just an unwelcome nuisance.
“Everything will be alright” we will say
It’s just a question of a few months
The numbers will eventually decline
The pandemic will be over
Yet, on the outline of our species
Numbers that don’t count enough will continue to dwindle
The hunger pandemic might claim more lives
That weigh too little in the balance of economics
While the indifference pandemic is stymied a little
Only to simmer on a low flame.
Then, we will go back to our ordinary lives
Throwing money at things that still don’t matter
Egos still racing to join the billionaire club
Paying their workers, a fraction of what they deserve
Then making ‘staggering’ philanthropic donations
“Why don’t you act fair to begin with?”, some of us might think
And then we will go to sleep simply because we have to
“Everything will be alright” we will repeat
until the heart is forced to believe it.
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