Urban Dissent
In haste merge ideologies,
in the morning rain,
into a grey canvas
stretched on my table;
for thumb impressions,
attesting a right, our freedom…
A sign of life, in spate,
the men rise, women roar,
our children march,
Me too Urban Naxal!
Red Harvest
With a sunny disposition,
the day begins
in a Gandhian pace.
And gladly, with no remorse,
Delhi wakes up to a reality,
a democratic aberration.
What can we harvest now?
Gold… Coal or some national pride?
Carried in lofty trains
which float o'er reality;
above the untouchables,
the red soil.
What's left to reap now,
the farmers writhe in pain
under a khaki rain,
as terror reign…
