Words of the World
Why do you hide your thoughts
behind the veil of your state-of-the-art vocabulary?
You talk about society and secularism from the knowledge you gained in the library.
Come down here,
Amidst the men of this earth, this country, state, district, village,
Set your feet amongst these men of the world;
See how they see and what they see
The torture, deaths, debts, and rapes,
Feel the burden of falling economy on their tired and old heads,
Walk with them on the drought-stricken lands and
Share with them a-day-old rotten bread.
And when you have known how they live,
When you are aware of the truth, the society, the people
Then talk of them, write, and preach
Your ideas in their language, in their words;
And only then will your words ever have meaning,
Else they will just be passionate masterpieces, meaningless verses
About bells, ghosts, and birds;
Afterall what story is a story, or a prose, or a poem
That is full of words, but empty of yourself,
unclear to the people of the world.
It feels great to be myself now,
not a son or someone’s in law,
neither a friend, nor a foe,
Nowhere to come from,
not a place to go.
My myriad faces and their scars,
the body, mind, and my soul,
It’s great to be left only with them now,
Nobody to ask a question,
and none waiting for an answer.
There is nothing to lose,
No fortune, no fame
And there is no one to blame.
Now, it’s just me
And it feels great,
It feels like god being just me.
My soul is scared
of the past, that haunts
and of the uncertainty, that future holds.
It is scared
Of the beginning: unfamiliar
and an uncertain end.
My soul is scared for it has forgotten
all of that, which it once knew
And roams like a damned spirit
Condemned; lost; unknown.
One to the head
One said 7 times, the gun was shot,
The other said it pierced him thrice.
Both of them sure, that one was to the head,
And the next moment a human being died.
He was a writer
And a man who expressed,
And showed the World
True colours of a false paradise,
These heathens in a legion’s disguise,
But their reaction, was full of surprise.
For instead of understanding
What he was trying to make them understand,
They blamed him for his religious reprimand.
And summoned him in the court of law,
And that court was swell
And that law was flawed.
But before the law could prove his guilt,
He was condemned of sins and shot,
In the middle of the street,
Against the sun’s glaring heat,
He lost the battle he never fought.
7 bullet shots were shot
Three piereced through him,
But it took just one to the head,
To leave a writer and a human being
In the street, bloodied and dead.
Have no clue about the others,
He has my respect,
For he only said that was true,
Which others could not accept,
And that there is something wrong with the world,
Do you not suspect?
18 men 3 days back died
And they died not for themselves
But for each one amongst the billions of us
Fighting our battle for paradise,
Without one excuse, they gave their lives,
As they been doing so since long
While we sit here
In our comfy abodes
And watch their sacrifice on TV Munching chips and sipping tea,
And then we just forget,
And it’s alright,
We are humans
But not this time,
Because we are humans.
Let’s not those 18 lives,
Pass by us in a daze,
Stop for moment, close your eyes
And try to feel their rage,
Who have lost more than soldiers,
They have lost husbands, and brothers, and sons
Just think about them,
Just do it for once,
And try to feel their sorrow,
Acknowledge their lives,
Respect their deaths.
For they could have done anything else,
Like all of us do,
But they chose to do what they did,
And they did for me and you.
Where are we going?
To where? are we all bound.
Don’t be silent now,
Are we on the right track
or should we turn around.
My toes are on the edge,
Should I step away ?
or take a leap down.
Oh! Please do not ask me
To bend my knees and pray,
for, in the vicious human schemes
Even the lord has no play.
I have lit my world up,
And I smell blood in the air,
Thou hast created myriad beasts
But to me, none can compare.
As they merely are mindless beasts
who kill to survive,
Made and meant to be wild,
While I am sly and ruthless murderer,
I kill, but to thrive .
Where are we going?
To where are we bound?
Or is the destination underground.
The idea of global peace and freedom appears to me only as a metaphorical notion. It doesn’t exist in the world. It’s an illusion, a light that treads far ahead of us and we run behind it, hoping to catch it someday. But we won’t and we cannot because we don’t expect to achieve freedom now, we dream of it in the future. And that where it is actually, treading ahead of us, always ahead. People of the world pretend to care about the world and show concern for it, which is fake. They are aware deep inside that there concern is a hollow facade to keep ourselves from criticism and live with a clear conscience. These people, they just pretend to care about the world, but they don’t. If people would have cared, I am sure the world could have been a lot better place. I have this notion in my mind about the fatal perception of “take it all, its for us” that reigns over peoples’ lives. They believe god has offered this world only to them and for them. Every thing has been created for humans, it’s there for the taking. If the idea was something else, there would have been few more species sharing the world with us. There would have been fewer wars. We always want what we want and if two people long for the same thing, they would go to any inhumane extent to make sure the counterpart doesn’t get it. This tendency of having all for one’s self, which I hardly believe is a human trait has led this planet into chaos and destruction. And if it continues treading the same path, as it is now, I don’t find it hard to believe that people will abhor the final destination. The fall of civilisation and rise of unethical dogma. When the generation acquainting the future will question and search for the cause of such terror and destruction, they will find their ancestors in the wrong. They will curse us for leaving a devoured planet and a society which is corrupt and has degraded itself to the core. The problem is not that people don’t have eyes to see but they don’t posses an insight to think and arrive at the truth. To understand that we have a miniscule amount of humanity left in us. We have transformed into viruses, feeding on the world, like a pest festering over the crop, damning it as well as the harvest. The present is intoxicated with corruption, wars, crimes, and other social injustice, which promises to give way to a highly fatal and noxious future. This venomous future shall result only in extinction of human civilisation, once and for all. And the cause, like always, will be us and our callousness.