We are still here!
Your bulldozers flattened the shanties
Threw away our meagre belongings in the drive
Against the dispossessed, sparing the rich.
We are back!
There is no roof
No walls here.
Like seeds, we grow everywhere.
Cops will come and shoo us away
But again, night, we will return and reclaim
The dusty ground—because we are the groundlings!
Our homes do not add to pollution, as do their gadgets.
Just a pale bulb and a common tap, no wastage!
Hard work and sound sleep—envy of others!
Why do you keep on driving us outwards?
We can sleep under the stars, under a welcoming tree.
Our life is a public spectacle watched by the motorists,…
