Boom! Boom! The sound of guns

Shatter the midnight silence

Boom! Boom! Comes the marauding

Call of shameless violence.

Boom! Boom! The sound falls flat

On the shattered bodies lying

Boom! Boom! The valleys echo

As dawn steals in before time.

Boom! Boom! “They’re at it again” –

The hills whisper to each other;

Boom! Boom! And frightened children

Crawl closer to their mothers.

Boom! Boom! The shells should’ve pierced

The traitor’s heartless breast –

Boom! Boom! And so many sons

Of India, yet again, laid to rest.

Boom! Boom! And we realise –

Peace is a passing dream;

Boom! Boom! They prove again

That violence is mainstream.

Boom! Boom! The crossfire continues

As empty shells hit the ground;

Boom! Boom! Amid blood and fire

Soldiers fall without a sound.

Boom! Boom! The borders cry,

“Has terrorism no end?

Boom! Boom! How many more innocents

Need we, to their deaths, send?”



January twenty-sixteen –

And we’re busy preparing

For another Republic Day.

Tiny tricolors hang,

Jubilant, from glittering

Strings that have been

Stretched taut from pillars

To posts or even the bare

Skeletons of trees that shiver

Along the wintry road.

Festoons flutter madly

In the cut-throat wind.

Amid loud song and music

We’re quite satisfied

To join our voices in

An unanimous roar of

Raucous celebration that

Nearly hides our dismay,

While dirty politics, crime,

Dishonesty and terrorism

Still hold sway.

It’s yet another Republic Day.





Tip-tap the mist

Sheds droplets

Wetting the streets

And the trees outside.

A cold wind blows

Hard, rocking trees and

Buildings to their bases.

An occasional car-horn

Blares through the night,

Calling out to its fellows

Across the dark distance.

Alone in the house,

I hear the squeaking of

Mice among the rafters

And the pitter-patter

Of tiny, busy feet.

A door creaks somewhere,

Moved by the wind.

Amidst all this,

I listen, rapt,

For the sound

Of your footsteps

Walking across the garden

And in at the door. Then

Mounting the stairs

And into the room

Where I sit, waiting,

Finally coming to a halt

Right behind me.



Another year has drifted by

Like a leaf from the tree of life,

Carrying away failure and grief,

Disappointment, loss and strife;

Paving the way for memories

Of happy hours and relationships,

Teaching a lesson here and there,

Making way for another year.

Yet another comes rushing in

Amid tears of joy and cheering,

Etching a smile on tired faces,

Wiping away grief in traces;

Another year to bask in the sun,

Another chance to love everyone,

Opportunities to right past wrongs,

Write newer stories and wilder songs;

Search for second chances to regain

Whatever we let go down the drain;

Keep looking for a greener pasture-

That’s the joyous beauty of new year.


Verses unsung

Beat against the walls

And subside.

The walls deride

Their frail attempts

To see the light

Of day. They

Flare up each day

Only to be extinguished

By the coldness


Hours fly, shadows

Change, while within

A wry colorlessness

Reigns. Unsung verses

Gather in heaps

On the cold floor,

Awaiting release –

Verses made captive by

Time and circumstances,

Waiting for Time

To set them free

Again. Insane urges,

Meanwhile, implore them

To beat and beat against

Cold walls and implode

To lie as ashes in heaps

In an effort to find release.