The mind is in a whirl.

The mind is in a whirl.

The choices are many.
Their consequences, far reaching.

Should I put the self before the world.
Should I put the ‘common good’ before the self.
Will I live to regret the choices I make.

I dive deep, unto my fountainhead.
To pray, to the gods of courage and wisdom.

Lead me,
even though the end of the road, I do not see.
Let me learn from each trial of life.

And in the serene coolness of purity,
There are no answers.
Just strength,
Strength,
And more strength.

12th January 2005
10.12. a.m

On the eighth day

On the eighth day,
The Lord awoke,
Stretched his mouth in a huge yawn,
Swept a lazy hand over his unruly beard,
And walked about aimlessly,
“Now,
How shall I occupy myself ?”

So he stretch out his hands,
towards the sky,
Rolled up his eyes
And thundered,
Let there be men,
And P-o-o-o-o-f
Went the toad stool
And then there was me.

-written on -
14-2-05
4.25 p.m


This poem is about ‘myths’. How many myths can you locate in the above lines!!.

Unnamed

They hurtled down,
an army of the countless,
crashed their heads with a tiny plop,
their transparent brains,
flowing down the shiny corrugated tin roof,
gathering in volume,
in a semi circular plastic channel
poured themselves into a hole in the ground.

they call this rain water harvesting.




- written on-
31st July ‘05
5.00 p.m

The Bomb

Uncle Abdul*,
said a little girl,
“I want a reason to be proud of my country”,
and so we made the Bomb.

Vajpayeeji,
said a party worker,
“I need to prove my mardangi (manhood)”,
and so we made the Bomb.

“They are killing us in our mothers’ womb”,
said a dark skinned tribal from Jadugoda.
“You are not are target”, said Iyenagar**
“The Chinese borders have come to close”.

“My dear Indian brothers and sisters,
you don’t want to live to feel your skin melt,
or search for your parents bones among rubble and ashes”
said a survivor from Hiroshima.
But you look, to find 30,000 bombs now lying around.

“So India has gone nuclear”,
inquired Saint Peter ***
yeah, said the rabbit,
now just watch the fission.



This poem was written after I watched the documentary ‘War and Peace” by Anand Patwardhan. The poem is pertinent as we inch towards 6th and 8th August, Hiroshima and Nagasaki Day. A time when we need to renew the discussion and debate about nuclear weapons and how their very presence is endangering our planet, and I dread to think about the consequences should they be used a second time.

* Abdul Kalam, the President of India.
** Iyenagar is a prominent Indian nuclear scientist
*** Saint Peter is a Catholic saint who is mythically believed to be the gatekeeper of heaven

-written on-
4th August ‘05
12.45 p.m