A take after “Moving on” Guardian)
You call it abattoir, I call it slaughter house.
But the deed is the same in all quarters.
How often I crossed that horrendous sight
On my way to market, from my location
away from the busy throngs of crowds, coins.
Blood oozing, woe to the hands that raised the
Cruel weapon in the name of trade and taste.
One cut into two halves, chop the head and legs
Deed is done. Some are hung upside down;
My village made blood and tannery;
Coal. Charcoal, and logs of wood,
Firewood embers the other side.
Things are drastically changed now
As change is inevitable everywhere.
Now it is transformed into colorful
Garment store for all ages;
I see the colorful garments hanging
In the wardrobe on hangers;
Those days were the animal’s skin
In the same spot; What a difference
Time has affected!
Autos and mobiles
Frequency of trade not for tongue
But for skin and celluloid show.
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