Class Struggles in Rain

Winters aren’t going.

Have you seen such a beautiful March in years? A cold Ramzan with winter-cum-autumn mixtures to serve with different flavors in different times. Beautiful air to breathe. Rains. Cold breeze.

Now the bad thing.

Last year were floods to destroy everything of poor. Now, rains to mess with crops, particularly wheat. It’s not just manmade hyperinflation to kill the poor. Heavens are also making sure to hang them twice.

Sometimes, I wonder. Between nature and science. Not sometimes. Everyday.

And like everyday, I wake up as a believer. And after passing and processing the whole day, I sleep as an agnostic. Or an atheist.

Or whatever. Does it matter?

The only thing that matters is rhyme. Rhyme without poetry. Rhyme to smile. Rhyme to mourn. Rhyme to love rain. Rhyme to bury in the drain.

Rain to smile. And rain to kill.

Water to crop. And water to drown.

From heavens to hell, let all come down.

Let all come down, let the poor drown.

Let the poor…

breathe for God sake!

Oh! Wait.

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