Ambulance Poem by Ajit Das

The snow-white body, red beacon, siren
fitted on the top,
the ambulance waits at the hospital's gate
for emergency calls.

A tribal man pedaling his pregnant daughter
to hospital, bringing back home
the mother and her newborn
again on his bicycle;

a poor laborer walking on foot,
dead body of his wife on his shoulder,
his little daughter following behind
in teary, stunned silence;

two men carrying on a dangling pole
a load of mangled, broken corpse
of a woman;

they all call frantically—
but no ambulance for them.

Yet the snow-white body, red beacon, siren
fitted on the top,
the ambulance waits patiently
at the hospital's gate
for an emergency call from a VIP -

ready to move out,
speeding, blaring, flashing red light
through the snarling traffic.