Every day I saw him tied to the mango tree
Like man is held fast to life with the cord of endless ambition
I saw in those dying dusks affection glittering in his gazing eyes
He was my pet bull: back from school, one day, I found him sold out
A wish had since then been kept close to my heart to see him again
Time on it’s wings brought me here in this remote countryside
To find him here under the yoke of the bullock-cart of my neighbour
I have seen him whipped to bleed while pulling the cart along
The ups and downs of rough stonny roads so long
And heard the sound of rubbles being crushed under the cart wheels
Subduing the creeks of his bones and muscles so weak
Today when I learn that he is sold away to the butcher
I realise the meaning of the distress I watched in his eyes yesterday
He was struggling to bid his last farewell with a heavy heart to part
He sacrificed his whole life, blood and flesh in human service
A rare Karma even the Gods may hesitate to perform
Where am I to give him a place, among the Gods or among the delicious dishes?
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