The red earth that was Kalinga
Panipath and Plassey
Is fiery Godhra today.
Our Gaza Sudan Libya
Passengers of death...
We are.
Stranded.
Burn a church
Shoot a girl
Burn books too.
Raze a mosque
Flatten a temple or two
You are scared
Aren't you?
A snake called Sabarmati
Winds through tunnels of gore
And green intestines of revenge.
The yellow air fills
With charred human smell.
All in a day's planned fell.
Where is your turf?
Where do you fight your wars?
How do you kill your hostage?
Your neighbour, kin
Shell shocked to silence
Or locked in an iron cage
While the camera rolls
And the fire rage.
I will play ghazal on the stereo
Or some Tagore full throttle
Oh drown the newshour now.
The coffee is made, the cries grow.
Or shall we play noisy monopoly,
Who cares for so much human folly
For I must master the art of pretense
And carry on as if it all makes sense.
© Sudeshna Sanyal
Panipath and Plassey
Is fiery Godhra today.
Our Gaza Sudan Libya
Passengers of death...
We are.
Stranded.
Burn a church
Shoot a girl
Burn books too.
Raze a mosque
Flatten a temple or two
You are scared
Aren't you?
A snake called Sabarmati
Winds through tunnels of gore
And green intestines of revenge.
The yellow air fills
With charred human smell.
All in a day's planned fell.
Where is your turf?
Where do you fight your wars?
How do you kill your hostage?
Your neighbour, kin
Shell shocked to silence
Or locked in an iron cage
While the camera rolls
And the fire rage.
I will play ghazal on the stereo
Or some Tagore full throttle
Oh drown the newshour now.
The coffee is made, the cries grow.
Or shall we play noisy monopoly,
Who cares for so much human folly
For I must master the art of pretense
And carry on as if it all makes sense.
 |
| Photo: Internet |
© Sudeshna Sanyal
Very nicely written poem ...was like music to the ears!
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