Civilizing the Bastar tribals

Yesterday was the day of cockfights
The birds stared at their bound legs
Waiting to bleed their bird-friends
We went high on smelly rice drinks.
We made a rope circle among trees,
That was the bloody arena for cocks.
Our basket threw up big plastic dice,
Our village youth staked day’s labor.
Our children now have blue uniforms-
They will one day be clerks in office.
Our women continue transplanting rice
Our gods have stopped being angry
Whatever we did in billowing skirts,
Our moment has never come, actually.

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