Hooch Tragedy Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Descendence of night with alarming sound,
Cries all over in streets and round,
Final calls buzz all around,
Relatives break their head on ground,

Somebody lost son and bread winner,
All curse for guilty and cry inner,
No blessings for wrong doers and sinner,
Air too becomes slow and thinner,

Their cry may lost in wilderness,
Life from something to nothingness,
Gloom forecast for days to come,
How anybody can think and welcome?

Only two hundred forty people died,
Many more names may be tied,
Millions of tear drops and dried,
Countless families bereaved and cried,

Only place of nation’s father,
World learnt a lesson and moved further,
Mourning death on count of liquor spurious
No one knows who their mentor is?

Humanity cries every year,
No steps and falling on deaf ears,
Who does bother and takes care?
No sympathy and consolation thread bare,

Countless may die still more,
It happened not today but also this before,
Shedding tears and offering solace,
Huts may be burnt but not the palace,

Rich can afford the luxury of drinks,
May loose little mind at home and sink,
Where does poor go and enjoy?
No one thinks and method employ,

Mafias, dons and hooch kings strive,
Extract more which flourish and thrive,
Some may be put behind bars and round up,
May be treated as simple incidence and storm in tea cup,