Happy Independence Day!

Back then, the brute was blunt,
Antagonism was far more proclaimed,
The villain had the balls to spit enmity,
In public, throw up stinky contempt,
Shone our target, we knew where exactly to head,
Fouled us for no cards red, had us boil in a soup of rage,
The hungry was taught sour lessons of dignity, self-respect,
Swords, cannons, then bombs of dissent,
We bought him down by the neck, sought was Independence,
But, it was retribution for all the pain back then,
Now, the enemy is far more sly,
Unseen it lingers close by,
Having applied that lotion of technology, it awaits in disguise,
To strike from behind hedges of pretense…


(India celebrates its 66th Independence Day…)



Image credits: http://24by7news.com

“The Verdict of Peace” – A Monologue in Verse


A gathering in Jupiter, where present are the supreme Gods and Goddesses of each and every religion that thrives on Earth.

Objective: To end all religious wars, once and for all.

The gathering is headed by Jupiter, the Greek god of the ancient and presently, obsolete Roman State religion.

The seemingly seamless panel of Jury consists of spirits of each and every dead poet and writer from planet Earth.

Seated high on a frozen hydro-rock, manliness draped in unstitched silk, helium eagle by his side,


The chiseled Greek God speaks,

“Divine Handlers are you all here?

My religion is forgotten, dead are ones it had begotten,

So from this throne I shall speak unbiased,

Today, we’ll spit wars futile,

Harmony shall be the only necessity,

We’ll put an end to all this hostility,

No matter how claustrophobic your spawns might have to survive,

Today we’ll punish you with Peace and you’ll humbly oblige…

 Lord Buddha! Are you there?

Are you visiting Earth regularly?

How are some of your children acting that vicious and wild?

The jury has some orders for you,

Rush back to Myanmar; control the crisis in faith,

Preach afresh, do whatever it takes, do it now,

We can no more wait…


Now, to all my Lords, pay some attention,

Put me through your speakers in every sky on Earth,

One religion, one country,

Is that what you want? So Be It,

We’ll have the oceans help you have it easy,

In the silent of the night,

It will intelligently partition lands, like wide streams flow in between,

Into smaller fragments, all the land on Earth, we’ll divide,

One country shall feed on only one religion,

No permanent passports for one to forever breathe foreign,

Your land is yours, mine’s mine,

Produce and reproduce till your land can hold heads by,

Immigration and emigration shall be terms forgotten,

Stir your souls in your own soup,

And, then flush it out with your morning poop,

Erase all your country names creative,

Erase that fake secular smile,

Dull Nations, suits you humans, actors locked in their roles of sanity,

From this day, your countries will be listed this way,

Islam 1, Islam 2, Islam 3…,





Buddhism 1, Buddhism 2, Buddhism 3,…






Christianity 1, Christianity 2… to infinity.”


Heads low in shame, swearing within to implement and sustain, depart the Gods and Goddesses.

Discussions jostle in the jury

While, Jupiter gets busy sketching brand new triggers of fury…



( An enraged reaction to the recent bombings in India at Bodh Gaya, the seat of Lord Buddha’s enlightenment, caused in retaliation to the saddening plight of Muslims in Myanmar at the mercy of a Buddhist majority.)

“Terror strikes Bodh Gaya, serial blasts rock Mahabodhi Temple”


“Plight of Muslims in Myanmar”

http://www.kashmirmonitor.in/news-plight-of-muslims-in-myanmar-50419.aspx )




Image Credits:



Ave Maria


Shot her reflections divine,

Shone glass from the Church’s spine,

Amidst jeers, tears and cheers,

Past cries from an innocent rewind,

From those meadows, wails of the sheep and the swine,

Treads ahead the nervous bride,

Petals rain from all sides,

Fate has her trampling them,

No matter to save some,

How hard she did try,

Triggers and barrels guard her walk,

Lead bursts in skies above,

For a life in arms of the barter of death,

A drop of love in that ocean red,

Her surrender to the Holy Cross,

On the altar awaits her share of sin-gloss,

Her skirt’s cathedral train rubs away the ground’s pain,

She drags it across the aisle, suppressing frowns,

When against lovelorn lips of the groom,

Shy, her sight sweeps down,

Scared, she freaks out, a blemished start,

On her kismet, bull’s eye scores the poisonous dart,

Her wedding gown was already wearing a blood stain…



(From the wedding party of the son of one of Colombia’s most feared and wealthy drug lords. Visualized on and inspired from Franz Schubert’s famous Opera composition, ‘Ave Maria’. For the musical piece, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bosouX_d8Y

The Ave Maria (Latin) (Hail Mary) is a traditional Catholic prayer asking for the intercession of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. For more, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ave_Maria)



Image Credit :http://www.bloominglovelyweddings.com.au/wedding-church.html

Special Powers to Murder?


Safeguarding our crown was their responsibility,

Long back, when that paradise was losing out on peace and stability,

Years after that bloody decade,

When the valley gears up healthy,

Yearns to lick tourism and trade,

Craves attention, gears up to resurrect wealthy,

How did uniformed hatred never grey?

How many more young corpses will grant them content?

Or, does it take one to feast on sacks of religious contempt,

Or, grow brainwashed blind into monsters, death-hungry,

To join this faction of the Army?

Do you hear that lull? Do you hear that guilty silence?

Crouched they sit, count moments for another sin to age,

Consumed is the nation, the youth is diverted dead,

Let the heat sway away, the news grow old, they’ll soon forget,

At times I gaze startled at the brilliance of this government machinery,

Tactful and wise, under curtains of the largest democracy,

Ethnic cleansing wages rampant,

Sanctioned green, invisible behind myths of our secular skin,

Secured and shielded to raze a limping J&K*,

Have you heard of a country where no terror strikes?

Does that mean an entire community and its youth will have to perpetually pay a price?

Unheard flies the mother’s wail,

Here to stay, those black clouds of an obsolete AFSPA*…



Based upon the headlines “Protest erupts in J&K after 2 civilians killed in firing”-  The Indian Express.


http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2013-02-23/india/37256692_1_return-of-guru-body-anantnag-and-kulgam-curfew) – Protests erupted in Kashmir after the Army allegedly shot dead two civilians in Bandipore district on Sunday morning. The police have registered a murder case against 13 Rashtriya Rifles (RR) of the Army. Though the Army said it will probe the killings, the J&K government said there is “nothing to investigate”

– The Indian Express


*AFSPA– The Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act (AFSPA), was passed on September 11, 1958, by the Parliament of India. It grants special powers to the armed forces in what the act terms as “disturbed areas” in the states of Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland and Tripura. It was later extended to Jammu and Kashmir as The Armed Forces (Jammu and Kashmir) Special Powers Act, 1990 in July 1990.

For more on the act, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armed_Forces_(Special_Powers)_Act,_1958


*J&K– Jammu and Kashmir, the northernmost state of India.




Image Credits : http://www.movieballa.com

Slaves of Pleasure


We’re the Human Senses,

No boundaries can bind us,

No walls, No thorny fences,

We’re restless, on a perpetual hunt,

Blinded selfish, we’re focused blunt,

Sniffing out our only treasure,

Pleasure, Pleasure and more Pleasure,

It shouldn’t end us all at once,

Nothing more matters in advance,

So, there’s a land that I know,

Beyond those grassy shores of Mexico,

That swore by Adam and Eve with a lot of sincerity,

To serve us till eternity,

With its only worthy fruit,

The one that offers us the finest bliss,

In abundance, everywhere, supplies are infinite,

Useless are thy laws, in vain the violence,

We are the Human Senses, it is by nature,

That we’re slaves of Pleasure…


(Dedicated to the ongoing efforts glowing futile to root the fatal Narco-Trade thriving on the absence of alternate livelihood choices,and poverty, out of Latin America.)

Image from : http://teamsternation.blogspot.in/

The Chemical Smell


Actinic gargles and burps from laboratories,

Their chimneys smoking out lethal heat,

Lashing the winds with acidic whips,

Inside boil synthetics neat,

Green enough to melt your meat,

Choke you to the ground, off your feet,

Have you wriggling like a worm on your sheet,

Flying through a maze of Holy steeples,

Hands soaked in sin, come those sightless disciples,

Spending lightning speed, they’re on their way,

All set to fold their wings, breathe afresh, then spray decay,

Drop ammunition saved from conquests in the Gulf, coconuts glass-shelled,

Wrathful flesh within, shooting out chemical smell,

To block all your holes,

To unfasten last grips on poles,

In offices, homes, malls, eateries, plazas and streets,

Down to the dust, all shall mourn ceasing heart beats,

Spring balances of war shall tilt uneven,

Breathless, blindfolded shall wander that tiny Syrian civilian,

Rest shod boots, uniformed, with guns,

Will squeeze triggers, summon the scourge,

Join in as martyrs for accolades from Eden, then white celestial fun,

Blood for justice, blood for rebellion,

Carefree of an entire generation slipping into oblivion,

The Demons of Death shall be further, allured,

Unaware of the incoming peril, scientifically planned by the Devil,

On this land that once, shone as Umayyad’s throne, no one might ever get cured,

Toxic bubbles blown into the crowd, out of their tentacles,

Will glaciate your lungs, burn your nipples and rot your testicles,

Boils will grow out of your skin, and then burst,

You’ll cripple, you’ll stumble for your limbs shall crumble,

In a flash, your bones will be powdered; your mettle shall rust,

Meek cries, weak prayers will drip the air,

Laughter shall echo from the President’s chair,

Time for Syrian maids and lads to round up in lines,

To poke out their noses, follow the chemical smell,

Fall into queues to the gateways of Heaven and Hell…



(Based on the possibilities of a chemical touch to the prevailing warfare in Syria. )




Image from : http://www.etsy.com

Shredding away innocence in Pakistan’s Darra Adam Khel


There sat my father,

Bearded, in his Kameez,

Blowing up his chest,

Filling it with pride,

He saw his son confidently recall the gun’s name, “Smith and Wesson 9mm”,

Pull the trigger,

Causing a bang that echoed from the red walls of the Hindu-Kush mountains,

“.30 bore, Chinese made”, the words followed the next,

Every day, each morning, he sought pleasure from his son’s knowledge of firearms,

Patted his own back for baking that eleven-year-old in gunpowder…

Startled! Aren’t you?

I have never stepped out of my town, Darra Adam Khel,

Locked, since birth in my world of guns in Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province,

So I don’t know how your world is?

How are children of my age in there?

But, today I will let you have a peep into this strange world of mine,

Where I have no one to understand, no one to help me out,

Decades in the gun-making business,

My father wants me to live, eat and breather guns,

He said, “Guns made men”, I failed to understand, how,

I wonder if you have ever come across a parent like this in your world,

Nurturing his son to turn out to be the best,

In the world’s largest illegal gun market,                              _41762134_guns2_203

Right here, on the main road to Kohat, in my Pashtun town,

Our lifeline, our only source of bread,

Even grandma says, “Your father loves you, he cares for you,

For you, he wants the best,”

Best? This was it…

Like you, I hardly can enjoy the luxury of a choice,

My fate as my grandma adds, lies in my father’s hands,

I’m locked behind bars of his dreams,

To sit back and smoke the purest grade of hashish,

Blessings for being able to have turned his son,

Into one of the finest amongst Darra Adam Khel’s ‘Bearded Engineers of Death’…



(for more on the same, refer Son of a Lion, a 2007 Australian-Pakistani drama film, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Son_of_a_Lion)