Essence Of Humankind

By Anuraag Bhattacharya

When I used to peep,

outside of those rusty window panes,

I used to look at those humdrum souls,

struggling through the strange design,

what they call living.

The roadside traders,

in their usual business,

summoning the class of kings,

the mighty customers,

with the grandeur of emperors,

nearly matched the grace,

of those humble street vendors,

playing their match of survival,

in a tough world,

run by capitalistic edicts.

In all of this mighty picture,

there comes a point of introspection,

when the crowd and cacophony,

makes you feel invisible,

to wonder what essence of humankind,

we are holding on to,

in this mechanical functioning.

If indeed its a mechanical automation,

there has to be point when it will rot,

and be shunned under the heavyweight,

of the short shelf life.

If indeed it has to be shunned,

under the weight of shelf life,

I wonder what holds the essence of humankind.

Conventions, their heavy chains,

that tie each and every soul,

by the limbs,

What worth do they hold?

Are they worthy enough to be cherished?

Countless like us,

try to break away,

risking our security

and privilege to be respected,

in exchange for freedom,

and the privilege to live free,

of everything that bounds.

In essence of humankind,

I am yet to find,

the stories of freedom,

sought after and respected.

In essence of humankind,

I am yet to see,

the stories of life,

lived as a chanced mistake,

rather than the great design.

In essence of humankind,

I am yet to witness,

somewhere rules don't overcome,

the strength of free.

By Anuraag Bhattacharya