The Mumbai Blast

Across the street from the Mumbai Western Railway, the station
was scattered with fractured love,
with shredded hope
of cleaved flowers,
dead mice,
angry servants;
things we could kill with our own bombs… or hands… or fear… given time.

Children waiting, mothers, fathers- transient- passing- gone. Waiting.
Hungry; hungry for work or worship… whichever came first,
but not death blasting its marked solitude
of splintered joy in moist fragrance,
pierced skin
the color of kings wrapped in flags.

Caesar's curse.

It will come, not on the mouth of your washed-up soul
Or on a street corner bathed in shadow,
The kind of dark that smothers granite
Or leaves us puffed face, up, smiling
In a glossy satisfaction.

It will be sudden,
Swift, yet after the bell tolls.

It will begin by bringing you to silence
And thrashing your bitter faced pretense,
You and your ilk-hollow drone.
You’ll drop, like sullen eyes toward a deformed child,
Cascading to the aching earth.

It will be painless for you and your kind, a void.
Like your soul, it will crave its own worthlessness.
Like a junky without a fix,
Hollow shrieking,
Heavy tongued,
Senseless, graceless, ineloquent and quick.

Your hand in this, traitor,
Will not go unnoticed,
Only you.

Justice

When I look at the tiny crippled child,
I feel pity.
When I hear of dead men stealing the soul of the wild,
I feel angry.
Lore and belief has it strong that God's justice is supreme,
"How then thou fool? How then of a biased god could thee ever dream?"
They told me.
I looked at their face and asked, which god did I falter?
The hindu one or the muslim?
The history of the whole world, you know, this difference can alter.
In this world the might of swords and gold,
Outweigh the worth of righteous doing.
If you have the precious paper, summer is not hot and winter is no longer cold.
And thus I believe, man is placed,
At the helm of all creatures great and small.
But what good has he done, I wonder,
That makes him stand so tall?
By raping mother nature and slaughtering his own kindred,
If that's the good he is doing,
Then I'm afraid , in this world, evil cannot be hindered.
But who am I to pass a judgement on God and my kin?
My existence, unknown to my own neighbour,my identity lost.
But lo! God's justice is supreme,
And of a biased God you cannot dream.

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