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Showing posts from September, 2014

This poem has attained ... nirvana

This... is a hungry poem. It is    not meant to be a hungry poem. It is meant to be a contented satisfied poem that does not embarrass its government. But it has nothing to feed on so it's hungry. This... is an angry poem. It is angry about potholes and poverty and the crowded buses and the rickety trains and the baby-eating rats in the hospitals and the cop-killing rich kids driving their dads' cars and the police who lock up youths in the cells and beat them to death and the miners cutting down the forests and the army's atrocities on the Northeast and the Naxals' butchering of hapless tribals and the costs of onions and tomatoes and ever rising petrol and diesel prices and and and and and and and and and and and and... This is a des..perate poem. It wants to talk to someone who'll listen and tell it not to commit suicide and tell it to hope and love and be friends and see the roses and the rivers and the koels and the moonlight and hea