Forbidded fruits of the day.

Litchis are sweet; they kill children.
AES they said.
Encephalopathy - said learned doctors.
An ounce of dextrose in time,
Would have saved them.
Glucose worth half a rupee.
No, not available.
A thousand flowers whitered.

Poor kids ate the forbidden fruit.
They didn’t fall from heaven, But.
They fell into a coma;
A comfy descent from this hell.

Parents picking up dead children,
Ah, Spiritual! Ah, Swachh!
Joints frozen, fruits will never be picked up.
Only litchi and no food at night,
Their livers stopped working;
Much like the levers of power that never bothered.

A health ministry official.
Wants to invent myths that forbid eating litchi.
Sarpanch, wants to fine mothers.
Some wants to airdrop fliers that “educate”.
None can give a meal to the kids.
101 floors built up over marshes, possible.
Gas hydrate exploration, feasible.
Hematite exploitation in deep forest, doable.
Kids dead for lack of treatment, awareness.
Fiscal responsibility and budget management.
That’s OK. Let the kids die.

Dark summer this is,
Winter and dead bodies in pavements.
Wonder what happens to the birds in Delhi.
Do they wear satin masks?

One thousand children dead post 2000.
All from eating fallen litchis.
And not eating anything else, at all.
For us, litchis in milkshakes and cocktails.
These children that one rupee could have saved.
A cigerrete is fifteen bucks.
I smoke many children at once, nice.

You should know, hunger is not a problem.
Lost glory of religion is.
A god unable to find his home is.
My neighbour’s facial hair is;
What he eats is.

So, we vote.
So, we eat.
We eat dead children.
Dipped in Litchi juice,
Wrapped in saffron charm.
We eat dead children.
Mashed into milk and butter,
We eat dead children.
And oh boy, they are delicious.

Why are the kids dying?

Written on June 21, 2019