Vivek Chakraverty's poem is a short, angry look at hunger and the people who profit from ignoring it. It begins with small, painful pictures: a rag picker boy so thin he is just a "framework," a mother with no food for the baby she is trying to rock to sleep. Then it widens out to the "corridors of power," where those in charge are said to feed themselves on an orphan's blood. That image is harsh on purpose.
The speaker sounds sorrowful and bitter at once. The line "Lord help them in agony" reads like a plea made out of helplessness, while the phrase "hungry zillions" suggests that the suffering is too vast to count. The closing lines turn sharply ironic, calling the masters' world a "utopia" that leads ordinary people toward disaster. The mood is bleak and accusing, and the plain, stripped-down language makes it feel like a protest rather than a polished song.