Many bright saris n eyes cries of pleas
from barren fields to crowded streets
red ribbons in jet black hair soaked in coconut oil
bengali bangles and street cables in tangles
the carrot always being dangled,
u can watch, but u cannot have
Bollywood teases the poor
like a young woman realising her power for the first time
my Sudder Street sisters,
best shack in the block
sister I see you thirst
and I know u've never carried pen in your purse
cos u think to live in drugdery
is a rural woman's legacy
n still the farmers keep getting drawn to bright lights of the city
From Tata to the Sitar, from hatha to paratha,
Sadhus, gulabjamu, and a sweet chai wallah named Apu
Up above eagles drawing Oms in the sky with its flight path
Down below pilgrims washin sins off a holy bath
these sensory delights in monsoonal showers
and sun scorched hours
freedom sings a duet with me
and i sing parts in harmony
n sometimes i go out of tune
when i breath in the air of injustice
of Indian army in platoon
who kissed my beloved chacha's nose
wif razor sharp fist
n left Chacha a bloodied shirt, deep colour rose
or when Anita,a child of 14
is being sold by her kin
into the markets of young flesh
vultures hungry for sweet honeyed meat..
the flowing river calling the mountain people down
in distant temples, chant down sound
the shiny lingams in musky cells
from ancient temples with ancient bells
horse drawn carriages and golloping hooves
NASA engineers from Delhi to silicon valley
speak highly of globalisation n the economic boom,
the rich get richer and the poor get frozen
from the coldness of the ice age where they still stay
while the middle class goes zooming on information highway
"Everyone's eyeing the Indian market" they proudly say
plague from the west is reaching the east
so they create the hunger
n the starvation of spirit feeds this hunger
n they keep buildin this prison of consumerism
"what is your good name sir?"
A billion identical questions,
From peering eyes looking to make a connection
But just a shot of smile from child is enough
Just a whiff of cardammom n cinamom
n just a pinch of saffron,
n just a bath in Gangama will suffice,
Just a journey on a sleeper train, holds the map
to see a young boy, wif his nana's head on his lap
massaging her forehead n pulling her white hair
strand by strand, with love n wif care
a beggar sharing wif me her bread
"Ive got enough...go ahead..."she said
one-armed boy called THe Sun
who gaurded the bridge of Ram Jhula
gifts me prasad of mangoes n
that which is even sweeter...his smile,

My India comes back to caress me
and intrigue me wif tales
like bedtime stories mama used to read

she taunts me and then she yawns
and slips back into history
to be wot she always has been...

Namaste(THe Divine in Me Sees the Divine in You....)

x SAhida