March 17, 2020


This winter,
I had some guests
Of all colors
Castes and creeds.

Some were
Black and beautiful
Some were
White and ugly
Some had
All colors,
but just dull!

But they all
Had a heart
That was red
And throbbing;
Throbbing to
Give a rhythm

For life on earth
Nothing more
Nothing less.

This winter
I did tell my countrymen
To simply enjoy
The things around.
For, this world is a garden
A garden of
Colors unimaginable
Smells unimaginable
And shapes unimaginable.

I did tell them
Not to invent enemies
And then fight them!
I told them again
Don’t worry,
You will find
Natural enemies
In abundance
On your path,
To hone your
Fighting skills
Or even to sharpen
Your hating skills
You will find them all
Be patient!

Nay, they said.
We are special
And we choose.
We are the future,
Everybody else
Is a dirty past
What we do is the future
Everything else is
An irritant past.

Winter is still around
Strange guests still come
They have no nation
No passports
They can’t see your boundaries
Nor you can see them
Crossing your boundaries

You don’t want them
But you can’t stop them
With a wall
Or a draconian law
All you can do
Is to accept
That this world
Belongs to all.
And learn to
Enjoy peace
When peace prevails.

Just out
Into this bloody world
By the way,
Where are those guys
Building cages
And detention centers?
Can see none.
Mother whispered
All are in detention!
You are free
Free like a bird!


While he invents troubles
And pretends to solve them,
While he fights for Gods
And we do not have even one,
While he thinks too much
And manipulates
And we do not think a wee bit,
This mesmerizing world
Is all ours, all the time.
To drink, eat or roam around
Or, to simply sit somewhere!



Oh , Google scholars!
Oh , Facebook writers!
Write about anything
And everything You want.
Just google,
Pick the bits and pieces
No matter where it is from.
Don’t think twice

Flaunt the surge of wisdom
You now have.
Perhaps, after retirement.
And after doing nothing
Or, after all the crimes.
It doesn’t really matter!

Advise, cajole, exhort
To do this and that.
Mostly on things
You have no clue about.
And have no training
Or experience!
But how can one ignore
A street wall
So convenient,
For graffiti par excellence?

Write and grow
Hatred and fickle emotions
Who cares
About clean water?
Who cares
About a safe road?
Who cares
About a little peace
And tranquility.

All you need
Is attention,
Likes and claps.
Not one or two
But in thousands!
Oh Google scholars!
Oh Facebook writers!
Keep going!
The tunnel though is not so long



Do you know
Behrous Boochani?
I asked my friend.

He said,
He wouldn’t know.
I murmured,
Yes, you needn’t know

But I need to know
These ‘boatpeople’
As they called him too
As they would call
Anyone of us,

Does anybody here know
Behrous Boochani?
I turned back
And yelled

By any chance,
Are you him?
Somebody quipped from the crowd.
Somebody with
Colorless eyes
And a faceless face!

Are you him?
I retorted.

We are him
They said
In chorus.

We were
And are
All boat-people
Sometime in history

Because somebody sells
Arms and unrest
Around our shores!

“Those who forget history
Are condemned to repeat it”

(December 5, 2019)



Flying bird, You are!
Fly high
And see the lands
See the rivers
See the people
Mostly rough and tough
But sometimes soft and gentle
Sometimes in pain
Sometimes in vain
In all what they do.

Yet you must fly
To bring that speck of food
Or that tiny twig
To build your dreams
But today, it is already dusk
Come back my bird
To my nest of peace
And tranquility
Come back
To dream together
And fly again!

(July 02, 2019)

Development strategist. Digital entrepreneur. Writer. Script writer.