A Fall

All it takes is a fall

To rise again

We haven’t reached

The tipping point yet

Where words

Will eventually give up

Their meanings

All languages will fail

To express the pain and gratitude

All the love will be a foregone conclusion

And death?

It is now a  kids play

Their playmate doll dies

Just like their friends did

They know the rituals

They know the burials

Death seems so routine

Mourning has turned

Into a celebration

What else can we do?

Except for changing

Our perspectives

We are running out of

Perspectives and paradigms too

There are no masks

Emperors take pride

In their nakedness

That brave little boy

Has been buried

They don’t care even if

They are called out

It will take big fall

For the humanity

To rise again

We haven’t fallen

Enough yet!!

Unheard Screams

She was out on the streets

Screaming about horrors

That went on inside a mansion

No one believed her

Women are always

Hysteric they thought

Before her there was another

A super model

Who tried to tell the truth

She was packed off

To the psychiatric ward

A filmmaker tried too

He died before

The world saw his edited film

Which felt like his perverse imagination

All this while

For decades men and women

Of power and influence

Kept mum even when they knew

They all partied, built a horrific reality

That the world thought was

Just a perverse imagination

They maimed, harmed and killed

In the name of fun and longevity

It took a whole generation

Of abused and trafficked kids to grow up

To call it all out, fight endless legal battles

Die mysteriously in the process

To bring it all to the light

With all evidence for everyone to see

Yet the world is numb

The perverse spy network

That controlled the world

Still thrives in money and power

Telling people to move on

Screaming only stocks and race

Money and influence matters

A handful few perverts

Reminding us that torture chambers

Continue to exist, cruelty never dies

In war between good and evil

Evil always has the ugliest loud laugh

While goodness stands shackled

Maimed, trafficked and brutally abused

No one believes the goodness anymore

What good does it serve to be good?

What kind of a rot is this? 

Where screams of vulnerable

Women and children

Often go unheard

While men continue to flaunt

Their naked positions and power

Through utter cruel perversity

Shame on this selective

Deaf, dumb and blind world

Was it all like this forever?

Was free world, an illusion

That was sold to us?

Just like puppets we dance

While the screams go unheard

We scroll past all the horrors

To pause at delicate flowers

Or wellness reels

How many steps did you walk today?

Ah! AI

Ah! AI

Ah! The clamour for supremacy
Race for Artificial Intelligence
While we lose natural traits
Along with all kinds of intelligence

In this game of supremacy
All are falling behind
Be it China, US, UK or name any
All bear the similar shame

Shame of bartering poor lives
Trading away dreams
Violating privacy
Outraging modesty

In this magnificent churn
Of algorithms and time
Wonder who will survive
When the planet dies?

Let us pause out
Take a time out
Remove our heads
From the sand

Information ain’t knowledge
Machines aren’t human
Money isn’t the end game
Neither is power

When empires topple
It is the poor rebels
Who make it alive
While tyrants flee

Time spares none
Not even the sun or stars
We are mere mortal
Accidental stardust!

– Jan 2025
Bangalore

Boulders

Gambling away
One’s own life
Taking risks
Leap of faiths
Seeking
The unknown  

But gambling away
Others lives?
Especially our children’s
Thinking we own it
Is always dangerous
And wrong 

A young aspirant
Gave up
So did the other and another
Fathers said
Fans need to be banned
Anti suicide device
Need to be checked

Let us control
All the factors
Look for loopholes
The peripherals
While avoiding
The truth

Sisyphus facing the
Heaviest boulders
Dared to pause
And not push
Not realising
It is not a choice
He or she had

Who decides
Size of the boulder?
Boulder of expectations
We unwittingly
Force our kids
To inherit

Boulders
Which crush them
Then we call them
Idiots who quit
We look for others
To blame
For our collective shame

Perhaps
It is the time
To imagine
Our young Sisyphus
Unhappy
With boulders and crucifixes
Of our expectations

– Jan 2025

Train Journeys

Anyone who has travelled by long distance trains in India will find it difficult to come to terms with this recent horrific three train collision and its aftermath.

I have travelled frequently to and fro between Mumbai – Kolkata, Mumbai – Pune, Mumbai – Sholapur, Chennai – Kolkata, Mumbai-Delhi, Kolkata-delhi and on other various routes till last year’s trip to Bombay with my son. We cancelled the return ticket and booked a flight due to multiple reasons: long delays as freight trains, I was told, were being prioritised, decline in food quality, and absolutely no reasons given for inordinate delays of 6 hrs, 10 hrs etc. When I did rant, I was often told that signalling systems were being revamped so I must not complain in the interest of the nation.


These long distance trains are microcosms of India. A compartment becomes a confluence of culture, class and plurality. Much to your annoyance or delight (depends on what kind of co-passengers you have) it is always a memorable journey.
A train becomes a singular entity ferrying people of all kinds to their destination. The variants being tea, food and other kinds of vendors, the railway kids who come out of nowhere to sweep the dirt away from under your feet, or to collect plastic bottles, beggars, singers etc. We can find all kinds of people to engage with as the train hurtles down the tracks.


In an accident like this, it is so difficult to trace vendors, railway kids, beggars who were there in the train. Maybe some of the elders will be located through their fellow vendors but what about those kids?
They too of course have a network. Once I had offered to buy a stick icecream for one of the tiniest ones, he smartly told me to wait till he got his friend from the other compartment. In no time, there were a bunch of 10 to 12 of them to have the ice cream much to the annoyance of co-passengers. I got much unsolicited advice on how they can’t be trusted and they are part of larger gangs, they rob etc.


My most painful unpleasant memory is of Coromandal express, of a stranger who tried to assault me while I was asleep and ran away before I could alert anyone. The trauma has made me a light sleeper so I stay awake either reading a book (till I am told to switch off the lights) or listen to various kinds of snoring, chugging sound of the train, kids wailing or staring out of the window into the dark interspersed by lights of small villages, towns or cities.


This microcosm of India – our long distance trains like Coromandal will continue to prevail as multitudes of Indians cannot afford any other option. One can only hope against hope that each one who lost their lives will be identified, including the vendors, vagrants, juveniles etc.
It isn’t just the trains which collided and jump tracks killing so many people. It is the trust we all have that our systems are functioning smoothly and we are on track that has been broken time and again. These deaths no longer feel like an unpredictable accident, it is again the cliched – chronicle of the death foretold. We all know our nation is being put on a track which will lead to disastrous consequences. How long before we won’t just be a spectator of multitudes of dead?

Shame

Shame

Perhaps it is easy
To violate
A woman’s body
And soul
And then walk with
Head held high
It is all done
To teach a lesson
To create fear

Perhaps it is easy
To plunder the earth
To dig out all
That is worth
And then walk with
Head held high
It is all done
For a profit
To create wealth

Will Earth save itself?
What about women?
Bilkis Bano is silent
Our silence is more deafening

We will rage
For Earth, for Bilkis
Yet they will
Walk free
Reign free

That is how it is
Dont ask why?
It’s reign of the
Shameless and inhuman
Emperor after all parades
In full nakedness and glory

How does one teach shame
To shameless tyrants?

#BilkisBano