Bro pls etha summary video podunga ah To be or not to be by LS rokade pls i need today bro Summary of poem This is poetry born of nerve-end suffering, where the narrator agonises about his own existence. These words are torn out of him, its very lack of artifice a testament to the authenticity of feelings expressed. Even as a translation (from Marathi to English), it doesn’t seem to have lost its edge, the despair and anguish all too evident. One will have to invent a new kind of poetics to describe and analyze poetry of this kind. In its simplicity and directness, it has quite a good deal in common with African poetry like that of Achebe or Okara. But the difference between the postcolonial African poetry and the desperate cry of Dalit poetry is that the former laments the subjugation of its people by the coloniser whereas the latter holds the caste discriminations of India accountable for its plight. This poem of Rokade makes no attempt to sociologize or historicize its suffering. It is mute suffering, the suffering of the yet-to-be born who is of course in no position to theorise about it. The labour pains of the mother seems to be a protracted one as the mother tells later to her child but for which she could find no reason at that time. The roles become reversed here, when the narrator explains the reason for the prolongation of the delivery: he was unwilling to emerge, perhaps sensing that the outside world would be quite a hostile one, barring his entry from the roads to progress.The passivity of the victims comes out who are shown helplessly gazing skywards, a sky which rests on props but which may be removed anytime. It is not the poverty of an individual that oppresses them but the poverty of a people subjected to untold suffering for centuries. Need is the pillow on which the mother rests in the night and in the day the cupped palm of the baby crushes her shrunken breasts. In this land of myths, the various castes emerge from a variety of divine body parts, the lowest emerging from the feet of god. They are not born out of the union of man and woman. The tracks traversed by a moribund society have become centuries of rut and nobody dare make even a slight change to it. The mother’s attempt to state the obvious (the earth is round) goes unheard and unheeded. Lakes and rivers may be awash with water but the lot of a dalit is to struggle to drink even a palmful of water. The narrator shows his extreme contempt for a civilization like this which permits the perpetuation of such inhumanity in the line: “I spit on this great civilization.” The right of being born here does not entitle anything to these disempowered people. The narrator rues the fact that he is born at all.
