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O My Birsa!

July 12th, 2010 by anuradha

Bhujang Meshram

Birsa Munda 1

Birsa, you have to arrive from anywhere

Either on a sickle that cuts grass

Or an axe that cuts wood

From here or from there

From East-West or from North-South

Turning into the breeze of the farm

Come from anywhere

O My Birsa! People wait for you

~

Bhujang Mesharam, a Gondi and Marathi poet.

Source: 'Tribal contemporary issues: appraisal and intervention', by Ramnika Gupta, Anup Beniwal.

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