What’s in a name? A name is a millstone around the neck these days
Well, not if you are a Shiva or an Isha. Can’t be a Noor or a Nick these days
However far from the tree, you are told, one apple is every apple is a bad apple
My pork-eating, beer-drinking lover finds himself invariably in the thick these days
Being a woman is a musk I can’t shake off I tell her. It follows me everywhere
Straightening her hijab, she differs. Says, on her, that’s not what sticks these days
Laal, hara, neela have been whitewashed in the service of a single colour
Who knows about love, but kesariya is the colour of bootlick these days
Yes, in times such as these the blood on the streets does crowd out the lilacs Blaiz
But let your open heart not close like a fist, driving out what’s left of magic these days
© Poem Carol D’Souza
