Uttar Pradesh State Disaster Management Authority accepts that over the years, drought remains one of the major disasters affecting UP, an important food grain supplier in the country. Parts of Madhya Pradesh are equally susceptible to drought conditions. As many as 51 districts here have experienced several droughts in the last 29 years. A large number of people in these states depend on rain fed agriculture for livelihood. So, recurring heat waves, depleting ground water and deficient rainfall create havoc in the state.
Only those who have experienced it know of the horrors of drought. For the city dwellers it is just a piece of news, but for the farmers who live through it year after year, it is ominous, like the coming of Yama, the god of death. Stony, dry eyes waiting for the rains, parched, cracked earth spitting fire, hungry, children with shrivelled bellies, heaps of cattle bones and women wandering in search of water – are familiar sites across the state.
This poem comes from my experience of drought in the plateaus of central India.
सूखा
रोज़ बरसता नैनों का जल
रोज़ उठा सरका देता हल
रूठ गए जब सूखे बादल
क्या जोते क्या बोवे पागल
सागर ताल बला से सूखे
हार न जीते प्यासे सूखे
दान दिया परसाद चढ़ाया
फिर काहे चौमासे सूखे
धूप ताप से बर गई धरती
अबके सूखे मर गई धरती
एक बाल ना एक कनूका
आग लगी परती की परती
भूखी आंखें मोटी मोटी
हाड़ से चिपकी सूखी बोटी
सूखी साखी उंगलियों में
सूखी चमड़ी सूखी रोटी
सूख गई है अमराई भी
सूख गई है अंगनाई भी
तीर सी लगती है छाती में
सूख गई है पुरवाई भी
गड्डे गिर्री डोरी सूखी
गगरी मटकी मोरी सूखी
पनघट पर क्या लेने जाए
इंतज़ार में गोरी सूखी
मावर लाली बिंदिया सूखी
धीरे धीरे निंदिया सूखी
आंचल में पलने वाली फिर
आशा चिंदिया चिंदिया सूखी
सूख चुके सब ज्वारों के तन
सूख चुके सब गायों के थन
काहे का घी कैसा मक्खन
सूख चुके सब हांडी बर्तन
फूलों के परखच्चे सूखे
पके नहीं फल कच्चे सूखे
जो बिरवान नहीं सूखे थे
सूखे अच्छे अच्छे सूखे
जातें, मेले, झांकी सूखी
दीवाली बैसाखी सूखी
चौथ मनी ना होली भीगी
चन्दन रोली राखी सूखी
बस कोयल की कूक न सूखी
घड़ी घड़ी की हूक न सूखी
सूखे चेहरे सूखे पंजर
लेकिन
पेट की भूक न
सूखी
Drought
Tears rain from these eyes every day,
the plough slips from your hand.
The clouds are dry and angry, every day.
You fool! You plough or sow on this land?
Dry are the oceans, dry are the lakes.
The fields are dead, parched and dry.
I gave alms, and offerings to the Gods
yet I see no rain, why?
The earth is scorched, (blame the sun)
now it won't survive, it’s the drought.
Not one ear of corn, not a single grain.
Curse the fallow land, it’s come to naught.
Hungry eyes pop out.
Dry flesh on bones sticks out.
Dry skin, oh the drought!
Dry fingers tear dry rotis out.
The orchard has dried up,
the courtyard too.
Like a dart through my heart,
the air is dried up too.
Dry are the pitchers and pots,
wooden poles, pulley, and rope,
Where do I go to fetch water?
Forever she waits, dry without hope.
First the pink cheeks and the forehead’s bindi,
then slowly her sleep, she lost to the drought,
and then came the hope that bloomed in her lap,
she lost it too, drop by drop.
Dried up are the bodies of the bulls.
Dried up are the udders of the cows.
What ghee? What butter?
Dried up are the vessels of the house.
Dried are the fruits, before their time.
Dried are the petals of the flowers.
Dried are the trees that once were green.
Dried are all the days and hours.
Festivals, fairs, and processions,
Diwali, Baisakhi, Chauth, Holi,
no chandan tilak, no kumkum,
even the Rakhi this year is dry.
But the
koel
’s song is still alive.
Alive are the pangs and sorrows of the heart.
Behind the lifeless the faces and skeletons,
raging
is the fire of hunger in the hearth
