Of Bhabha
In an air crash.
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Shakuntala in English
An Indian girl fromThe metropolitan towns and mega citiesEnacting the drama in EnglishTo the foreign audience.Shakuntala,Bengali Shakuntala,Tamil Shakuntala,Punjabi Shakuntala,Manipuri Shakuntala.
Sometimes plastic flowers
With their beauty, hue and shapeFailing the originalsFresh from the garden.
I want you, want you, my love,
That want you.Is love the name of burningAnd burning in love, have I come to feel it,What it si love?
I can see three villagerly friends,
Mr.Ganjeri puffs in ganjaFrom an earthen takerAnd the eyes drugged-drugged.Mr. Bhangeri takes it in the name ofShivaji’s buti,Herbal pasteTo be abnormal, half-madAnd his brain dulled unto.Mr.Darpiya, daru piyo,Take daru, I mean Indian daru,Low-quality local daru,Made from rotten riceOr from mahua buds.Taking daru, lie you fallen,Fallen on the roadways,The sideways,Into the drainsOr the bushesBut leave not,…
God, what is it in their tears, which but I know it not,
And if I cannot be of any use to them,What is it that I shall accomplish it?Instead of my limitations and shortcomings,Weaknesses and fascinations,I want to do my jobBefore I go awayAs mine is a short spanAnd I have many a work to do,Many a thing to accomplishAnd get it finished.God, if I can be…
Don’t,
BreakMy heart,MyHeartAs I am,IAmSo weak,So weak,My love,MyLove,Don’t,Don’tBreak,BreakMy heart,Heart,My love,Love,It is you,It is youWhomI love,I love youSo,So, so much,So much,My love,Love!
working in sweatshop conditions,
for a couple dollars a day,
who made the shirt on the shelf.
the cows, pigs, and chickens
slaughtered, after living
in horrid conditions,
to fill the shelves
at the grocery store.
i think about invasions,
gunfire and bombing,
every time i fill my tank.
i think about the hungry,
and the homeless…
every night when i eat,
and go to bed.
i know, by my actions,
and inactions,
i am responsible.
do you?
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it’s hard, so damned hard!
and pound your head against the wall…knowing there’s no way in hellyou can make enough to survive!house gone! car gone! savings gone!no insurance, not enough food to eat!husbands leave wives, cant do it anymore!wives leave husbands, want a better life.and it only gets worse!the only thing that we havethat they cant take awayare the people…
standing in line at the mission,
the winter wind whips downbetween the buildings like a knife…pulling tattered coats tight hunching.and i can hear Shantideva whisper,his hand on the ladel…his body the meat of the soup,his blood the broth…‘these are my children! ‘….they walk in long staggered lines,refugees from the bombing…hungry scared children clinging,afarid to lose sight of…what’s left of their families.nothing…
listening to a kid
and was dying… talk…and all he wantedwas to be alive,to really live, … right now!he knew there was no tomorrow.how much we could learn,and how much more gratefulwe’d be… if we listened!
self immolation…
silent screams to a worldgone deaf!freedom and dignitywritten on charred remains….and no one sees!too far away? no oil to gain?‘see no evil, hear no evil’….as we rock to indifference!
that five and dime perfume,
a flower garden after the rain,and the front seat of an old caron a moonlit night!making love in the dirt,between rows of green beans,hot July sun,bodies glistening with sweat.slow dancing in a laundromat,carrying buckets of water for a bath.crawling out your bedroom window,just before dawn!long greying hair glisteningin a sun shadowed room,the silence, and the…