dying, hand in hand

they lay in their bed
holding hands fondly
tears in eyes
hearts heavy
minds laden with memories
their lives long filled
with hardships, neverending

they struggled daily
from job to job
no one wanted them
they were too old
they were too slow
there was not much earned
there was not much to eat
they were always hungry

fear filled their hearts
with every new day
of what it will bring

help was hardly there
the cc asked for forms and forms
to fill
to prove they were poor

they were just tired
of their daily heartaches

as the city bustled awake
as the bmws roared down the streets
as children wore nikes to school
as the civil servants sat down to another meeting
as the cc staff had another cup of coffee
they decided to leave
this heartless city
that ignored its poor
that was slow to help

they lay in bed
hand in hand
tears in eyes
breathing in gas
until
there were
no more
heartaches

india, oct 06, part 2

arriving in kashmir
on a drizzly afternoon
serene dal lake
sits besides the mountains
their peaks blurred by grey mist
its dark waters
littered with fanciful houseboats
and choked with lotus plants
while shikaras quietly flow by

a quiet beauty
uglified
by soldiers
by guardposts
by army trucks
by checkpoints
everywhere

a country torn apart
by the militants’ bombs
by the army’s bullets
killing innocents
thousands have died
and many are still dying
the poor live in tatters
with scarce work, food, money

the children still smile
the children still laugh
the shadow of death remains
they just want their
country back
they just want to play
with no fear

a child of joy

Little child
Going to school
Eyes bright and cheerful
Grinning
Walking ungainly
Arms flaying

born, with an imperfect mind

his joy
forever
untainted by
unaffected by
a dark grey world

india,oct 06, part 1

landing in delhi
on a hot and dusty afternoon
the smog filled the air
the sky could not be seen
the streets were clogged full
of cars, scooters, rickshaws
and creaky buses from days gone
all fighting, honking to get ahead

human masses were everywhere
rubbish lined the streets
roadside carts dished out rice and dhall
bones-sticking-out cows ambled along
connaught place bustled
with the young and trendy
in mcdonalds, kfc, cafes
feasting on vege burgers
chandhi chowk was
a mess of traffic, people, cows
and the temples filled with the faithfuls
and the fried pakoras in oil-filled woks
and the lime juice carts
and the sellers hawking stuff
and the rickshaw drivers that took you nowhere
but emporiums where they could get a commission
the metro zoomed, clean and slick
an underground of peace
karol bagh was bright and neon-lighty
with indian delis, pizza hut, mcdonalds
and budget hotels
and well-fed ladies in sarees streamed
into shops, stockful with clothes
and wedding jewelry

street dwellers
poor, forgotten, abandoned
slept, ate, drank on roadsides
their young ones
palms stretched out
pestering, but faces smiling

india
at first glance
is a shock
a shock of rich and poor
a shock of dirty and clean
a shock of packed roads
a shock of cows and humanity
a shock of dhall and vege burgers
a shock of little ones, homeless

free expression

Command
And control
Is how they always do it
Command
And threaten
Is how they always do it

They say they listen to us
They say they get our views
They say they let us write freely
They say they let us speak openly

But then their views are already firm
But then their thoughts are already set
But then their decisions are already made

You cannot always say what you want to
You cannot always do what you want to
You cannot always watch you want to
You cannot always read what you want to

Unspeaking, like parents
With cane in hand
After little children, unspeaking

dark glitter

on saturday night
amidst the glitter of bugis junction
amidst the bright lights of the library
amidst the dark gloom of middle road
stands a woman
asking passer-bys for money
she is hungry

we pass by
she stop us
she ask us
we walked on
unsure

some distance on
we stop
ponder
she could really be hungry
she could really be in need
we went back
gave her some money

moon above, dark
shines no longer
on our streets

a sign that says death

on roadside
sits a sign
picture of car hitting motorbike
asking for witness
to an accident

a sign that says death
a sign that says sadness
a sign that says heartbreak
a sign that says regret

the sign
waits
in gloom

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