As I walked along the blood-stained path
Recollecting thoughts and sights I had seen,
Memories of the worst came back to me
From the hell where I had been.
The harsh, cold wind made me heavily shudder.
The horrifying images of women and children
Being made to work mercilessly in factories
And those sold and purchased in slave markets
Bled my heart and made me cry
As I looked onto the celestial abode,
The vast, endless sky.
But no rays of sunshine did I see above,
Of peace, no sight nor scope.
Only dark clouds of hatred and brutality,
Shadowing my hope.
I stared into the vast horizon,
A vast spectre of persecution and viciousness
Lay shrouded in a deathly insipid mist,
Faraway affliction shattering the silence.
Someday, the skies will open up I thought,
The people will get awakened,
The sufferers shall recount and avenge
All the vindictiveness inflicted on them.
So shall dawn the historic day
So shall the Armageddons arise.
The tormented shall rise from their deplorable conditions
To hear their tormentors’ cries.
And so shall end the heart-wrenching brutality
And so shall end the traumatic period of imperialism
Which now lies engulfed in dread.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
....AT CROSSROADS
If you stood facing death, what would be one thing, when you look back in those fleeting moments in time, that you would remember the most? The endless fights you had with your childhood friends? The teenage rebellion and aggression which often made you think about the world in disgust? The clueless adulthood which came and went by in a flash? The corporate power plays?
As I stand on the cusp of time and change, embracing limitless possibilities and opportunities, I am reminded of a childhood spent in the most secure environs on the planet. When the mother’s voice seemed like a sparkling stream and the end of the saree when above my head seemed heavenly. When the sound of the ghungroo never ceased to fade and the myriad customs were filled with joys and cries. When the backyard forever buzzed with people and grandparents shared priceless wisdom.
As time passed, all of it had to be forgotten. As I got sucked in the vortex of competition, often straying away from the values imbibed, another face of the world revealed itself. Where everyone waits for a single mistake made by the other only to tear him into shreds; where the world wakes up to the news of terror and tragedy; where people have shielded themselves against the capacity to feel for the downtrodden.....This is how far we have come.
While all of us have had our fair share of both the good and the bad, some memories vividly remembered till yesterday, now seem lost and vaguely remembered. Winnowing the painful from the good has never been an easy task. Vignettes have been interwoven in infinite intricate threads, difficult to conceive them as separate entities.
As I stand at the crossroad facing death, I envision being lowered down to my final resting place where I shall return to the soil of my beloved motherland.
As I stand on the cusp of time and change, embracing limitless possibilities and opportunities, I am reminded of a childhood spent in the most secure environs on the planet. When the mother’s voice seemed like a sparkling stream and the end of the saree when above my head seemed heavenly. When the sound of the ghungroo never ceased to fade and the myriad customs were filled with joys and cries. When the backyard forever buzzed with people and grandparents shared priceless wisdom.
As time passed, all of it had to be forgotten. As I got sucked in the vortex of competition, often straying away from the values imbibed, another face of the world revealed itself. Where everyone waits for a single mistake made by the other only to tear him into shreds; where the world wakes up to the news of terror and tragedy; where people have shielded themselves against the capacity to feel for the downtrodden.....This is how far we have come.
While all of us have had our fair share of both the good and the bad, some memories vividly remembered till yesterday, now seem lost and vaguely remembered. Winnowing the painful from the good has never been an easy task. Vignettes have been interwoven in infinite intricate threads, difficult to conceive them as separate entities.
As I stand at the crossroad facing death, I envision being lowered down to my final resting place where I shall return to the soil of my beloved motherland.
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