Yes, war is necessary. But let my wife not be widowed, Nor my children orphaned. Nor let my mother and father Spend life’s last lap looking At the photograph of me Saluting at my passing out parade Trying desperately to stifle a tear. War, however, is necessary. But my career is also necessary. That US visa, that VP designation And that Thailand… Well, whatever happens in Thailand. And that 5-crore sea facing flat. It’s necessary, war is necessary. I am aware that the men in uniform Fighting the blizzards of Siachen Or sudden fire on the Line of Control Or fearlessly facing militants Martyr themselves for the Nation, But I fulfill my responsibilities too And have never failed to offer Koti koti shraddhanjali On Facebook and Twitter. War, however, is necessary. But it is not in my fate that I, Clutching a mug of cold tea at 3 AM, Fight a jihad against sleep; nor, Wearing body armour (If I get any) Depart for a crusade against The searing heat of the ...
The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.