rain of joy

this evening
on way home
saw a little boy
looking skywards
palms upstretch
jigging up and down
trying to catch raindrops
hooting with joy
as they drop
on his hands
on his face

lebanon.early august 2006

the islamic countries
rightly
condemned
israel
for slayings of the innocents

but

they forgot
to
rebuke
hizbollah
for the same crime

they forgot
to rebuke
the militant muslims
for the bombay slayings

they accuse united nations
of double standards
but they forgot
they also play the same game

lebanon. end july 2006

the rockets fire
the bombs rain down
homes blow up into dust
little children cry
and die
while israelis and hizbollahs
continue
their hatred
continue
their slayings

the trees refuse to grow
the flowers refuse to bloom
the doves refuse to fly
where children
no longer sing and laugh


Technorati Tags: Lebanon, Hizbollah, Israelis, Slaying of Children

lebanon. mid july 2006

The children are distressed
They are scared
Their parents are distressed
They are scared
Of bombs landing near
Of homes crumbling into dust
Of their lives going up in smoke
While
Their leaders
Play war games
In comfort

bombay killings

no matter what
they do
no matter how
many bombs they explode
no matter how
many innocents they kill
We
will pick ourselves up
and move on
with life

entrapment

Luring one
Deceiving one
Entrapping one
To commit a crime
is despicable
is crossing the ethics line

respect
and trust
in those who
are supposed
to protect us
is
lost


Technorati Tags: Singapore, Entrapment, Poem

Living Unhindered

Living
A life
Unhindered
Unchecked
With no fear
With no intimidation
From religious zealots
From over-the-boundary officials
And laymen bigots
A life
Denied
To most

death comes

Death comes
uninvited
At times
One moment, you are here
And the next, you are gone
Leaving
No time to ponder your life
No time to say your goodbyes
No time to say sorry
No time to see the world
No time to splash in rain puddles
No time to see friends not seen for long
No time to behold the grace of trees
No time to admire the beauty of flowers

the east coast

Along the east coast
Wind blows from the sea
Dirty swells rush up the shore
Clouds gather in the sky
Burning sun dims somewhat
Airplanes glide down noisily
Bladers zoom down the paths
Cyclists pedal up and down
Patchwork of families lie
On the grass
Looking at
Some
Golfers in pretentious garb
Shoot balls on expensive greens
Out of reach of many
In hands of the few

just let us go

the hustings are over
the ruling party has won
many of us have not much choice
between a known and an unknown
easily going for the comfortable known
but we still wish
the known
will do more for the real poor
will do more for those who slip between cracks
will give equal healthcare to all
will give equal education to all
will respect the rights of all of us
will give us the right to talk freely
will not snoop on us in the net
will rely less on the paper-laden elite
will talk more with a heart and feel with us
will talk with us and not talk down to us
will treat us as adults
will treat us as partners
and
will treat us not as their children
who need to be whacked at times
and
will just let us go

the dervish whirls

over the blue sea line
the sun rises
a yellow burning glob
day comes

across the dark blue of sparkling stars
the moon races
a shimmering white
at night

day, night
watches over
the clouded world
where
the muezzin calls for prayers
the tibetan horn drones
the hindu bells ring
the church bells toll
where
they sing the hymns
and the torah
and the bhajans
and the mantra

each
in awe
of the one heavens
of the one sun
of the one earth
of the one moon
and one One
who makes all
spin

the dervish whirls endlessly

they are the same

god loves all his children
be they
sunnis or shites
hindus or moslems
christians or jews
catholics or protestants
black or whites
gays or straights
brahmins or dalits
aristocrats or farmers
man or woman
city folks or gypsies

in his eyes
they are the same
they are equals
though we insist
on making it
otherwise

sunburned and drenched

huddled on the backs
of lorries and pick-up vans
they sit
cowed
under the burning sun
drenched when it pours

coming from the poor rural
in china and india
they flock here
doing hard work
building our towers
repairing our ships
sweeping our streetsc
cleaning our homes
caring for our kids
earning
for their kin back home

but
some of us
abuse them
scold them
beat them
make them slog unstop
with no rest day

losing
their rights
their respect
their dignity
at our hands

saving face

sitting across the straits
uncomfortably
the two chinas
both rattling their sabres
and mouths
each its own nation
one clamours to add on the other
saving
face
becomes more important
than
its people
welfare

elections time 2

It's elections time
New candidates
Come on board
Again

Each
Imposing his own religious values
To shape
To bias
His interactions
With the people
He represent

elections time 1

huddled in a corner
of her one room flat
munching some dry biscuits
with a glass of water

the morning light
Seeping through the window panes
shining
into a room bare
a lone mattress on the floor
a crickety fan
a light bulb dangling

last night
the election candidate came
knocking on her door
asking her
to vote for him
promising her
flat upgrading
if she does so

she worries
more
about her next meal
about getting more cartons to sell
she cares not
for the voting
for the elections
for the upgrading
she has no money
anyway

the elections come every four years
the candidates come every four years
inbetween
they leave her alone
they leave her lonely

faiths, blindly

Pray, tell me
How keeping my hair, unshorn
How keeping a beard, uncut
How wearing a turban
How wearing a tudung
How eating kosher meat
How not eating pork or beef
Will make me more pious

Should I not
Keep in touch
More
With my inside being
With my conscience
With my morality
Than
Just
Retrofit
My external façade
To please the
Cannot-be-questioned
preachers of faith

black pot, black kettle

it is odd
when china castigates japan
for its wartime misdeeds
and yasukuni shrine prayers
when its own human rights record
in tibet
is
blemished

little girl

You were only two
When your life was
Snuffed
Out
Suddenly

Little girl
You were born poor
You never knew happiness
You never played with Barbie
You were often sick
You seldom laughed
You woke up at nights
Frightened
Of the darkness
Of your family
Of getting scolded
Of getting beaten
This was your world
You never knew it was wrong
You thought it was the norm
It was the only life you knew
You never got to know a child’s fun

in china, in india

Thousands and more
miserable and cold
poor
no jobs
gnawing hunger
unwashed
sleeping on the streets
under the moonlit skies

while

their countries
proudly
shoot satellites into space
fly the latest warplanes
flirt with missiles
and nuclear bombs

a pride
crumbling on
two wobbly
bony
legs