a gruesome truth we dare not speak
of violence with its bloody taunt
such terror stories seldom haunt
in lands where casteist pyres reek

it’s really simple. what you need first is
a man, preferably alone, poor or looking
poor, carrying no weapons and exhausted
from work, starving, and apparently
belonging to a lower caste or a muslim.

I wish I remain
In the cozy lap of mother Earth
Safe without pain
Of germination and growth …

As the Devil tiptoes into the room, The little girl’s hands seize the cane As he walks towards doom, His gaze fixed at her bane Brutus will make his deft move, But Caesar’s honour will not demise No longer trapped under his cove, The Damini in her is swift to rise Daddy’s little girl is now mature Ready to strike[Read More…]

Government of the blowjobs, by the blowjobs, and for the blowjobs
Government of the warmongers, by the warmongers, and for the warmongers
Is not war the ultimate blowjob?

Oh! Mother of civilization !
We are out to destroy
The meticulous creation
You nourished for us to enjoy

Three eruptions of unintentional poetry plucked from prose works, on topics ranging from homelessness in India to neocolonialism to death.

But if you risk life
Continue strife
Spread collective power
High over the infinite ‘ Sky’ tower
Will the big brother follow you?

Welcome to the nation!
‘ Doctor President’ Erdogan!
Let dictatorship and despotism
Integrate fanaticism with fascism!

Sun zooms into sky
Like aspirations of workers of ‘ Maruti Suzuki ‘
Toiling daily with casting and moulding
And turning and fitting
Gears, accelerators and brakes
Or cushioned seats and side glasses
In the sweltering heat
And iron rust

Early January 1977 Just out of Harvard Law Looking for a job Landing at Yale Law 26 years old 2 hour faculty presentation In faculty lounge To my right Dean Harry Wellington Arrayed left and right Across the room Yale Law Faculty all Most distinguished crowd   Sitting in the back Directly opposite Clear line of sight Glaring right at[Read More…]

The battle lines were drawn up.
The snow girls with books in backpacks.
The olive green troopers with guns.
An eagle perched on a white cloud
relayed the proceedings to Times Now.

When I hear the degradation of nature I think of the tender touch of Helen Keller! When I hear of the inhuman bombings of warmongers I remember the odyssey of Homer …! When I read of children with hunger I console myself in the music of Stevie Wonder When there are so many suffering around me Still living with hope[Read More…]

Then he thought he should have a drink
And all the bars were closed.
They told him ` get married and you will be fine’
Then he just asked them this:
`Will it cover my nudity?’

And when the dead bodies do not wake up
I keep telling myself
That it is safer to get drunk
On the silence of the graves.

To see the planet whole;
To know our place upon it;
To nurture and restore it;
To abide in moderation,
With compassionate humility;
That the arts might consecrate us—
I voted.

Share the bounty of the Earth!
Make a joyful sound!
A teaspoon’s worth
can give new birth;
let the hills resound–
there’s plenty to go around,
sharing in rebirth.

This is the wall of stone faces
This is the plain of lost skulls
How much blood must fallow
Before we’ve had enough?

When Jesus and the Buddha met
in a meadow of larkspurs, on a balmy day,
the bees of the valley went mad with love,
the sky and the sun were a glaze.
“Let us sit on the grass,” said Buddha.
And they rested their traveling bones.
One in cambric, the other in saffron,
and the air was the color of amber.

The tender coconut that you once gave me
Was certainly more tasty,
Than a nation you have offered
To keep me alive and to shape a meaning
For your existence than mine!

The pain of birth. A breathing child arrives With the loudest unhappy tears Cursing the entry into this planet Yearning to be where once belonged. The pain of death. Clinging to the last breath Refusing to leave the touch of fresh air Hated at the time of arrival. A last struggle to maintain The life which floated on air. You[Read More…]

This time around, Siddhartha let Yashodhara go to attain nirvana instead of you. In your colourful palace she sits forlorn. The colours fail to brighten her day. They disgust her. Yashodhara will leave you with a delicate flower in your bosom. Not to worry, you’ve attained enlightenment, right? You’ll figure this one out too. Look at the forlorn footprints behind[Read More…]

One day
I will open the windows of my dreams
to watch men and women
young and old
hugging and kissing
singing and dancing
without the poison of hatred
and without the guilt
of their silence.