motherland - mannav jaisinghani

by the time I am my mother's age,

I will be dead,

this earth that I stand on,

will flip me on my head, 

this pavement that I stand on,

will crack and swallow me in.


this country that I live in,

will have so many people,

that I will be pushed into the sea,

but the parents will not see,

they want more sons,

clouding up the sun,

with clouds of masculinity,

I will drown in this sea,

surrounded by water I cannot drink,

there's other people in the sea,

we're all at our brink.


the sea gets larger and larger,

it swallows capitalism whole,

paper notes get wet,

coins rust,

we're all fucking dying,

but the newest iPhone has voice recognition,

maybe it can hear me scream,

a yell into the void,

maybe it will yell back.


everybody goes to school,

goes to college,

university, 

but school numbers are getting larger,

a hundred students to one poor teacher, 

underpaid,

overworked,

she wonders if the occupation is worth it.


photo: aryan nair


but a young man sits on the street,

well educated,

but his back is bent like his forefathers before him,

they carried physical loads, 

he carrys a mental one,

no job,

no house,

no one to love,

a young man sits on the street,

all alone.