The Maoist

The mines closed, miners scared,
There’s no one to extort from.
Lying in hiding or wandering out
There’s no one to laugh or frown.

A lot ignored were the tribes for long
A lot of stings we lodged in the poor;
Electricity was a modern thing
Chintalnar would never get to savour.

These lands should not be controlled
By aught than us for the reckoning
These forests are mine and
We thrive in opium making.

I used to earn a decent sum
From spreading fear and
Speeches by the educated young
All that has gone up in vapour.

The trade in bhang is bygone
Since the locks have taken control;
I am fed up of being futile
And want some activity more.

Thanks to that deadly virus
Flying over here in the vale,
Write a letter of plea to the Premier
I must to send relief here as well.

(This poem is based on a news clip that the Maoist leader has asked the govt for help and more about Maoists in Wikipedia)