In the cities, they slogged

Like slaves long and hard

All for the money they sent home

For life support and savings.

It is all ended, kitty money no more.

Long march they had begun

Longing for their homes

Stalked by death on the tracks

And even on the roads.

Sun beating them down

On the cruel highways

No cool shades, for it

Was not meant for walks.

Cast in the mould of outcaste

Will their home offer any solace?

Elsewhere blame game has already begun

After all, their votes still count.

Chappals and soaps being offered

SOPs in the big package, a zero

Blisters on their feet

Unmindful of the heat

The march continues

When and what will be the end?