By Mamata Banerjee — Poem

I am not just cloth and cane, not just a handle for the rain. I am the shadow of a widow’s vow, the ink that dries on a farmer’s brow.

(After a line from Mamata Banerjee’s poem "Ami Bangla Bolchi") poem by mamata banerjee

So let the thunder roll and spit— I am the hand that will not quit. Not just a shield, not just a plea— I am Bengal’s audacity. I am not just cloth and cane, not just a handle for the rain

— after the spirit of Mamata Banerjee’s poems from "Upalabdhi" and "Ami Bangla Bolchi" Not just a shield, not just a plea—

They asked me, "Why do you hold so tight?" I said, "Because the storm has no right to drown a child’s first alphabet, or wash the field where the promise is set."

When the metro roared and the buildings grew, I walked the mud path, broke the queue. My ribs are bamboo—bent but strong, my song is the rickshaw’s pull-along song.