Life Of An Honest Dacoit Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

I can see him vividly in my mind's eye.

Some 1000 years ago there lived an honest dacoit, named Raghu.
His voice was like roaring of a sea,
his breathe was like a hot oven,
his eyes were red like wine,
his hairs were like weeds of a forest,
his shoulders were like monuments,
his chest was like a valley,
his hands were like hammers,
his legs were like pillars...

He was a great devotee of Goddess Kali-
he looted the rich, kept little for him,
distributed the rest among poor;
he never harassed women and children;
he never hurt or killed anyone.

I have read 'Robin Hood', but never saw him,
his brother was there in Bengal too.
Today a dacoit like him is not here,
but taxation has taken his place.
Raghu has become an embodiment of taxation,
and Goddess Kali is law now.