Once a hen took cover
In a big palace’s corner
Inside an old, broken packing box,
With some of his playfellows .
Though he got shelter,
But couldn’t manage enough nourishment .
With his sharp shrill voice, he remonstrated
From morning to evening.
But still there was no sign of empathy
From that tall, Herculean mansion.
Suddenly, he started getting food supplies in the dump .
Surprisingly, all his problems were solved
Though , he got junked food
But got what he desired .
But that didn’t last too long,
As tramps too came in the dump.
With dusty, torn and filthy clothes
Who stopped the daily bread of the chicklet.
Food… .food… a Little food.
The helpless hen entered the palace repeatedly
In order to hunt food.
But every time, he was chased out of it.
The small bird used to dream big
Of having plenty of edibles in that same edifice.
One day, his dream came true.
As he once got to enter the castle ,
And went directly to the
Clean, white, exorbitant clothed dining table.
No.. No… not to eat food
But…..as a food.
- Supro
( translated from "Ekti moroger kahini " by Sukanto Bhattacharya)
