MY PART OF THE SIN

The sight
of broken limbs;
the maimed and dead
brought home
amidst beating of drums.
The shrieks
of babes and women,
of wailing bangles----
the sobs of vermillioned earth.

With every sip of wine,
drink blood
and suffer for my part of the sin.

My timid self is gnawed
by grievous guilt;
no more can I sleep;
pierced by pricks.

Too close,
yet too far,
to the solution:
a convict
counting my crimes
in a lone cell;
a senile,
waiting for the call.

HELL LET LOOSE

On a killing spree
dropping death they go around,
unwashable the blood stains
even by an ocean.

Treading on debris
of felled temples and mosques
a whole culture collapsed,
what laurels reap
what crosses win!

What religion enjoins
what prophet ordains
to take away life of innocent, 
turn Edens into dark dungeon
where nightmares sizzle and scream,
murder and mayhem dash every dream.

How empty it sounds--
this talk of communal peace,
what wounds heal of childhood orphaned
what consolation to a mother dazed
with dead son in her lap
grief-frozen and struck dumb.

Raging infernally,
combustible cries of 'kill' 'kill'
mouthing  venom and revenge
let loose a burning hell.

No hand stretches to save
old and infirm screaming for succour
but thousands rise up to blow to pieces
whatever is left of the House of God.

Unbearable stench of dead bodies
scares even the hovering vultures,
on the run are surviving hopes
hurrying to black holes.

Among the rubble are countless stars
that once twinkled and cheered
now in blind stare mock and shock.

In their speechless eyes
I see my murderer's face,
the barbarity of a whole generation
maddened and ran amuck.

Throat choked, voice lost,
sight blurred by gory deed,
I feel poison enter my being--
rises up in my fevered brain
accumulated guilt of all my sins.

Too long in this killing trade
thirsting for blood of my brethren
in name of parochial darkness of religion,
too long a scroll of my crimes and sins,
punishment for each one
eternal damnation.

Doomsday knock freezes my blood
as scorpions hissing poison fly past me,
my whole cerebral mechanism,
unable to bear the load, breaks down.
I suffer brain hemorrhage,
pass into a coma-like state.

God's minions will not let me die,
in an instant they revive,
scrutinize my every deed,
dumb founded I plead guilty
before the invisible jury.

O Lord! When shall I be free
from this oppressive night,
when shall I see another dawn,
hear songs of happy cheer,
free from hate and fretting fear.


MOTHER'S PRAYER

My brother stands before me
ready to kill.
To embrace the stab of hate
and be killed
or dismount his proud head.
In a fix I press the button.

The bloodhounds set free
upon the children of one mother
who shared bread
and broth in one kitchen,
basked in the fire of the same hearth,
slept under the same roof
and played hide-and-seek.

How to retrace from the precipice,
avert the headlong fall.

Mother is lacerated by each wound
her children inflict upon one another,
The irreparable loss is hers,
the tragedy of her sturdy youth is hers.
For  never shall it be the same again.

Every mother prays for
long life of her sons,
their  well-being,
their blossoming,
wants peace to sing
her anthem of creation.
Every mother wants this;
yes, every mother.

She wants peace,
for sure, peace,
no war, not even a scuffle.

Spreading her cloth, she wails:
come my children, come home,
there are forces who will not let us live,
they have planted bombs
all over my bosom.

Throw away this forty-seven,
spare  your mother's womb.
I can bear the shock of  explosion
but not another forty-seven.

Let mother show the way
when mankind  strays away.