Mamata Banerjee’s Poem Asks, ‘What is the Address of Democracy’?

West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee

West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee has picked up her pen
once again and this time it is to offer to the citizens of India, a poem on
the degeneration of a democracy.

The CM of West Bengal has penned down a poem that expresses her
deep concerns about the state of Indian democracy today and asserts
that ‘democracy is being lost’ under the present political climate.
The poem has originally been composed in Bengali and has been entitled
‘Thikana’ (address).
The poem came hours after the former union minister P Chidambaram
was arrested in the INX Media Case.
She took to Twitter and wrote “Democracy has lost its address, history
of this country is now obscure.”

The poem composed by the CM of West Bengal mentions how the media
has chosen to remain silent and how this “storm of disrespect” has been
dwindling the path of justice.

She argues how rights of the people are being tucked away in sacks and
that anybody who protests against this injustice is put into the jails.
She asserts that fascism denounces all and that “ Everything is known,
yet unknown.”

In her poem she asserts that the Indian democracy is crying and the four
pillars of a vibrant democracy- its institutions, the election commission,

the media and the judiciary are in bad shape.
Mamata Banerjee has often chosen the medium of poetry to express her
political concerns. After the 2019 Lok Sabha elections too she wrote a
poem entitled “I don’t Agree”, in which she spoke about being against the
colour of communalism and the “selling of religious aggression.”
The Bengal CM’s poem expressing distress over the state of affairs in the
country may be an important statement on the decadence of a political
culture and a cautionary note to work towards its restoration.

If the poem were to be roughly translated it would read-
We can’t recognise the address of democracy
The history of the county can’t be understood
The media is silent, the crows are not making any noise
The sparrows refuse to eat the grains of rice
Is justice being curdled as if it were sour milk?
A storm of disrespect has risen
Why is the storm not calming down?
People’s rights are stuffed into a sack
Those who protest are enclosed into jails
Fascism doesn’t pay anybody heed
I can’t find my address
Everything looks familiar and yet everything seems unknown
Within boundaries, no indefinite limits
But am I well? I ask myself
Dear heart, please find my address…


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