survival

I struggle in this land of ruins,

resisting and thrashing out

against the shards of time

to survive.

I don’t see a moon

but some soiled clouds in the sky.

Stars are a few white scars.

Hunger, like a vampire

sinks its teeth on our stomach;

dried tears make a strange path

on the dusty cheeks of the children;

a rag doll, a top, chapped knees

and torn clothes

flaunt their missing childhood.

hiding many different sorrows

of diverse colors, of various shapes

among the folds of my sari,
 I wait for some food and a little place;

what do I care about your political beliefs

and all those rallies and endless promises?

It is none of my concern

if there is going to be a change!

What do I care whether I belong

to a temple or a mosque

or some particular land?

Cobwebs cling to the soundless words

of those freedom fighters,

independence is hung like a shabby old portrait

in a dusty desolate corridor.

What do I care for motherland and nationality?

Let me just live on this Earth

and mind you I am not alone

but there are several nameless

unidentified insignificant me

fighting to survive

to be called a human.