The Father of the Nation,
Indian nation
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi,
Bapu, Bapuji.
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Time, your bulldozer
History’s Haunted Houses.
The girl in the jeans pants and the T-shirt and the mobile into the hands
Who is this girl,Looking so cute and remarkably beautiful?Has the modern age come reallyThat she bowling out the modern menAs well as the villagerly eldersWho holding a closed-door not, a gathering-meetingAs what to do with the jeans-pants-maiden?A girl of the town, the small town not, the city not, the metropolitan cityThe jeans-pants-wearing maid,Looking beautiful-beautifulAnd smiling…
My question is,
The credo and anthologyOf modernismIn Indian English poetry?Are they poets or poetastersOr even not,The versifiers,The writers of broken verseThe English poets of Indian English notBut the vernacular menTrying to write in EnglishFor a wider platform?
The wife-beaters
Giving discourses on feminism.The husband-desertersAs the feminists of IndiaIn the media glare.The talaq-givers of burkhawallis,Purdahwallis,Ghumtawallis.
My little love, (touching the cheeks) of the daughter,
Keep you smilingEven be sorrows.
It gives me joy
A small girlGoingTo school.A small daughterOn her wayTo school,A small poor girlGoing toLabour school.A daughter,Just a daughterLoving and dearAnd nothing to differentiate it.