How easy it is dear,
Once you write off your land,
You can have any imported four-wheeler
Stand right at your door,
Have exorbitant acquisitions come home
Money can make anyone dance...
You can dress anyone in gold and silver.
Show off as a cent-minister
But my dear, will you hand over your heart to the system,
That extracts your mother’s heart?
You are right nonetheless...
There are no landlines anyway...
Last month, at the Maharashtra Foundation award ceremony, amidst celebrated writers and activists, Kalpana Dudhal, a petite, unassuming and soft-spoken poet from Boribhadak village in Pune district, took the microphone. Her speech started as a quiet monologue, but soon she had the audience—largely from Mumbai and Pune—enthralled. Many of them rushed to meet this powerful writer after the...