The Road thru' Duncan's Dumchipara

The sixteen Duncan-Goyenka tea estates in India are in the news. They are shut for months causing countless deaths and limitless misery to lacs of people living in their limits. I was born in Dumchipara Tea Estate, one of the Duncan-Goyenka tea estates, at the foothills of the Himalayas. Though I live 600 KM far south, I am suffering the misery too.

The road thru’ Duncan’s Dumchipara Estate

Hides a history of its own unwritten state

With witnesses dead and buried underneath

It has been erased lacking a safe or sheath

 The only road link ‘twas to India’s north-east

For the mainland, played a role in war not least

This was the road that saw the brave soldiers

Of the Indian army marching to north borders

To defend motherland from horde’s aggression

Of the dragon driven by acquiring possession

It saw tanks, trucks armored cars of all kind

On the shocked tea bushes raking dust behind

A generation is gone since those booming bangs

The deft Duncans left Dumchi to Goyenkas gangs

And to grabbing greed and inept minds and hands

The tea estate limped on rocks, gravel and sands

The machines no more hum in the quiet factory

As the estate’s been closed causing much misery

And the tea plucking fingers are unemployed laid

Working hands wither with years of wage unpaid

Many of mine have been claimed by early death

By the lack of medicines to prolong life’s breath

And the unkempt tea bushes are silent in grief

Hoping the hoe’s harvest to be short and brief

The road thru’ Duncan’s Dumchipara is desolate

While many roads have been truly tarred of late

The road thru’ dreary Dumchi lies like a dog frail

Too weak even to open its eyes or wag its tail

 When I draw near, it emits signs of recognition

But of sadder days of sorrow I sense premonition

Governments have since turned into history

But the old dog still lies there, it’s a mystery

For the child within me perhaps alive to remain

To light a lamp of joy, to lessen my adult pain

The road thru’ Dumchi jumps to me with life inside

It lies lifeless though, with weak workers to abide

Xavier Bage

Tues, March 01, 2016