The Greater Good

Men in suits, holding positions,

Who see themselves larger than they are,

Or rather, others as smaller than they are,

Taking decisions of state, looking at the larger picture,

Those powers, the pay - it is indeed for this,

For them to think beyond themselves,

To forget family and individuals,

And to see the country as one single body,

And while we elect them to do us good,

They are forced to think of a country - a name to place their love in,

A name through which benefit does reach us,

But in rare cases, something that matters more than our lives,

These men are to overlook smaller things, yes,

But are they to sacrifice the small for the big?

To overlook morals and values and the 'right',

While their heartless decisions affect man, woman and child,

Oh, in what way are these men better than terrorists?

Ready to indulge in heinous crimes,

Well, they have hearts, unlike those men who have a choice,

Hearts which they are trained to lose,

Perhaps they are indeed unlike their fellow people,

Both greater and lesser but never equals,

But then again, is it not due to the brains of such men,

That we all get to live in peace?

The greater good, that's what they call it,

And it's seen at all levels,

Not merely country or a governing body,

Do you see the father toiling away,

Or the mother losing her sleep?

Man's goal is happiness, they all say,

But is it his own, or that of another?

Conceived while watching Person of Interest, on 31st May, 2016, and written at 4:11pm

When in Pain

It could be a mere irritation,
A throb or a serious affliction,
That settles in gradually,
Or arrives suddenly,
But when it does, you attention shifts,
And it wards of any intention to live,
Convinced that your ache is the worst one ever,
You struggle to fast forward to a time when it vanishes forever,
Regretting not having used your healthy time well,
You vow to do things that you'd shelved,
Braving the agony, you move forth and live life,
Be it alone, or in the company of parent, sibling or wife,
And, one day, perhaps soon, perhaps later,
The pain goes, leaving you better.

Written on 31st May, 2016 at B001, H13 IIT Bombay

On the Partition

One single land it was, and had always been,

A woman raped by many a monster, seen and unseen,

A home invaded and plundered by thieves many,

And yet, she welcomed all, sheltering friend and enemy,

Embraced them as her own progeny,

A land, rich in resource, culture and tranquillity,

Each creed blending into her, joining the countless others,

Eventually becoming loving, tolerant brothers.

She bore the anguish, yet remained fertile,

But now I wonder if it was all futile,

For the last clan who came,

Was human only by name,

A new clique, the first of its kind,

That did not see India as its own land,

Merely an asset, a farm at the most,

To cultivate money, resource and labour at low cost,

They didn't rule India, they enslaved her every subject,

Heartless men who conquered, brainwashed and burnt,

Claiming to help us, the backstabbing tyrants,

Plundered our riches, with no shame or guilt,

They governed us pitilessly, watching our people bleed,

Drinking or blood like parasites or weeds,

And even when the time came for them to leave,

Sans remorse, they pulled more tricks from their sleeve,

Their filthy rage made them plan another blow,

Never had one ever sunk so low,

Modifying their old trick of divide and rule,

They chose to employ the method of divide and leave,

Who were these men, wretched souls,

To decide the fate of a land from which they merely stole?

Containing its progress, to earn bloodstained bread,

Milking its udders until they bled,

And now they picked authority's knife,

Slicing India into two, twice,

Leaving behind three pieces that chose to fight,

A treacherous motive in plain sight,

Yet the world listened and so did we agree to split our soil,

We answered to wealthy men, whose richness came from our toil,

Venting our rage at brothers till till that day,

Thinking not twice, before raising swords to slay,

Smearing the two nations in a bloody bath,

Murdering civilians for hatred that existed not,

No pain, no slavery taught us that which was plain,

That by fighting ourselves, nothing did we gain,

One land became two, which later became three,

We call it independence but till today we aren't free,

The wounds are yet to heal, it still doesn't feel right,

To see that two people with a common past, are at each other's throat.

*Conceived and written on 30th May, 2016 at 6:26pm at B001, H13, IIT Bombay

The Face

Truly original,
Like none ever before,
Crafted so beautifully,
Unique yet unanimous,
With the same organs at the same places,
It unites and distinguishes,
The very identity of a human,
Better than a fingerprint or other pattern,
So singular it defines a person,
Housing the eye, the most alive part,
Displaying complex emotions
As simple expressions,
Sitting on the 'face' of the seer,
Entirely descriptive but indescribable,
Etched in the memory of the one who sees,
But unplottable even be the one who sees it,
It is nearly one with the person it defines.
Perhaps the greatest miracle by Nature,
Born to humans but undesignable,
Creation of a new one humanly impossible,
It is the surest proof,
Of a power greater than man.

Conceived and spontaneously written n 27th May, 2016 at 2:48am (B001, H13, IIT Bombay)

The America That Was

Gone are the good old days,

When going abroad meant the US,

An image of a heaven to us all, young and old,

A mental picture of paradise on earth,

The home of our favourite characters,

Of Disney, of Hollywood,

Of Superman and Batman,

Whose products brought big smiles to our faces,

Be it stationery, a peculiar machine,

Cereal or movie merchandise,

Its dwellers seemed to us seasonal relatives

Who came out of nowhere,

Consuming only 'mineral water'

At a time when it was hardly known,

Fussing profusely over hygiene and discipline,
'Enlightening' us about right and wrong,

Merely since they live in a more developed land,

Making short trips once or twice a decade,

Before disappearing for eternity once again,

Only to talk over phone or chat,

Once a week or even less,

We laughed at them, and we still do,

But the land has always seemed a place for awe,

Perhaps a bloody history but a flourishing now,

It commands respect, turning heads,

With the likes of Google and other such wonders,

And a few lucky ones among us,

Getting to go on a trip,

For a few months, if not more,

With others teary, waving at them,

As they walked past those guards,

Past those counters at the airport,

To return changed, smiling, in a cool jacket,

Laden with goodies.

But over the years, with many moving there,

That land seems to have lost its lustre and respect,

Merely a land where we dump our brains,

Gone are the days when only the best of us went,

Today it's the average, perhaps even less,

Students who flee from India's system,

Chasing after another, only to get trapped there,

A world of liquor, of credit cards,

Of large, dull schools and no home,

Lost to their family, but for a trip or two,

Smiling for pictures but living in gloom,

There is life there, who am I to talk?

They talk of experience, of research,

And a term called 'exposure',

Much like other jargons used to mask truth.

The whole world's getting crowded,

Why blame just one land?

Well, this is just what I've heard,

I've seen, known. and feel,

Oh how I wish I'd gone there when it was still nice,

On an airline I've heard called Lufthansa,

Too bad, I'm old now, and I no longer want to,

It's a boring old land now,

With nothing there that I don't have here,

But despite all, my memories,

And dislike for it,

America will always

Have a special place in my heart.

Conceived and written on 27th May 2015 at 2:08am, spontaneously at B001, H13, IIT Bombay.

On Independence

A nurse upon his birth,

A mother for nourishment,

A parent for food and study,

A doctor for health,

A farmer for crops,

A barber for style,

A ruler for order,

An engineer for a roof,

For comfort and travel

Hundreds of thousands of faceless people,

Helping him in ways he knows not,

Receiving all this, he does his part as well.

Someone to depend on from birth to death,

And still he claims independence.

Written at 6:26am on 20.5.16

The Fear of Death

It comes from nowhere, gripping you in an instant,
With you staring like a kid into the darkness,
In a fixed gaze into the cold eyes of inevitability,
The state lasts for not a moment,
Fleeting, agile, transient,
It comes, traps and leaves,
Leaving no trace of having ever come

*Written weeks back. Improved and published on 16th May, 2016 at 6:50am, at Placement Office, IIT Bombay