Mourning Of A Cocoon

By Archana Samanta

A silvery silkworm was buried in the backyard

Unhonoured beneath the earth,

The little worm once ducked back down

Under the dusty dirt.

The curled Pupa cries, ‘I am abused and burnt’

I’m the offspring of Bombyx Mori’,

Only the mulberry-leaves I munch,

Neither have I fang, nor sting, but why am I so steamed?’

The skinny worm sheds its skin, enjoys Molting

But thousands of poor Pupas! Scorched in sunshine

O ruthless butcher! ‘Stifle me not for silky robes or silky threads

Shun your Zardosi, Chiffon ,Satin and lustrous Muslin’.

The winged moth has no dream, it dies before fluttering or flying

Its freedom was nipped in womb, its life is doomed in handlooms.

Is it humane? The crawly creatures should be boiled to wriggle in pain?

The stifled shiny worm wails in vain! Too many Pupas are cooked in cocoons!

By Archana Samanta