Somewhere in Gaza

7:05 PM

A young Ima waits patiently,

for her father has to come,

he had promised that he would be home soon,

and they would break the fast together.

Blast and screams from the distant land are filling up the square,

As the evening sky turns redder still ,

with each new building that’s put on fire.

It’s almost Iftaar time and he said he would come,

It’s for the first time she is on fast, It’s her first Roza.

Her mother urges her to clean up and change,

as her guests would arrive soon,

her little friends and cousins,

who would come to break bread with her.

And soon enough a party does arrive but not the one she expected,

bringing along the screams and blasts which now were not so distant.

And just before the horror and death was about to consume her,

It ignited her, a bright light blazing and searching

and her face become more red than the crimson sky overhead .

But she did break her fast,

albeit in a different way than expected

instead of sweets and chocolate her father was supposed to bring

she had dirt and rubble that the rockets brought.

10:15 PM

On a hilltop somewhere on a southern town,

A bunch of people flock together

with popcorn in their mouths and hookas by their side

A new kind of entertainment has risen,

with cities being burned and children being mutilated

Television has turned pale in comparison.

This is what years of war has made us,

this is how we became inhumane.

3:05 AM

Sirens have been ringing continuously for some hours now,

sky turning into a canvas of the world it covers,

the black and brown of smoke has intermingled with the red of the blood.

The God above the artist here,

Mocking and painting the colors each heart desires,

“But whose God mine or theirs” , the young doctor ponders

As he turns his back on the dark sky

to check the dead this night had.

“Twenty more were brought in dead”, the nurse notes

“Twenty more lives slain” , the doctor whispers

“In the name of God , Glory and the promised land”.

“But doctor there is one alive, who was brought in here this evening,

A girl of around seven , who is alive yet still not living”, trembling the nurse ended.

The doctor moved closer to inspect the sole survivor,

the little girl in torn but still new cloths

her eyes staring into the distance, yet without seeing.

The only movement the alive corpse had

was slow inaudible Arabic rumble

“They are dead, they are dead” was all she said

since she was brought into the hospital.

The young foreign doctor turned away from the bodies both dead & alive

Remembering vividly his  trips to Synagogues with his mother,

remembering the teachings of Torah

this is not what his religion was like.

Praying silently to the one true God

praying for the madness to stop

as he couldn’t see more corpses of children
before the next fast broke.

(Photo Credit : http://www.davidicke.com/headlines/29686-an-international-crime-called-gaza/ )

Elections 2014

An empty lane

no heart of gold

some ghosts of past

some dreams untold.

Passengers in the journey

faded faces with dimmer souls

each one has struck

each one on your throat.

Some promises of growth

future prosperity they hold

shrill voices of development came

another told to remove me from my home

Isn’t this the betterment

of which we are told?

Of hopes and dreams

Of youth and old.

Equality of speech & freedom of thought

Of each word I say

Anti national I am, I am told.

Of building barriers & broken bridges

of states dividing & culture uniting

2 sons bought up from same motherland

of same language & history,

their difference I am being told to explore.

A nation of dreams,

with billions handicapped followers have grown.

Some with eyes but can’t see,

Some with voice but reason has gone,

Some deaf who can’t hear the shouts anymore,

Others with heart which have turned to stone.

It’s indeed an empty lane,

there is no heart of gold

with ghosts of past

there are more to unfold.

Corporate Sellout

And when the clock chimes nine

you should have fallen in line

for who you are but, slave

selling their soul for each dime

When the readings been done

and you have been measured & checked.

you are ready then,

to sell yourself to the highest bidder present.

They inspect you, check you,

Tested OK, you are stamped

and for the eyes of this blind world

you are presented with a smile.

The smiles been pasted,

now it’s a part of you.

Look back at your free self ten years back

even he is mocking at you.

What went wrong, where did you die?

filling up few yellow parchments called appraisal

with pretty ratings, becoming a "YES" man

you took your own life?  

And then unfortunate, disillusioned you

make remarks on the business those women do,

branding them dirty, calling them whore

but slave, who are you ?

while they feed themselves by selling their bodies at night

you are doing the same with your souls the entire life. 

Alive....

The milky dream,

a cloud of uncertainty

a ball of myth, its bubble bursts.

Still running on this runway alone,

the race which you had long finished.

How come our journey

had two such different ends?

Me still lost in thoughts and time

you moving to a different land,

an oblivious stranger in a dream

parts come back to you,

but the picture, its cracked.

Where were you when I burned and was weak?

Watching through my closed windows,

the rain making everything dark and bleak.

Yes you were lost too,

lost in someone else`s words,

dying to believe what you heard,

dying to believe you had won,

in warm meadows of sunshine you walked.

I end this dangerous pass time today,

no matter how irresistibly I have been caught.

Today I`ll walk into the paradise

I am a murderer today,

I have killed my past.

Removing the sand,

clearing the footsteps,

I am coming back to life,

into the warm sun,

I too want to be lost.

Who am I?

Nor the blazing sun

or the elegant moon,

the one amongst the countless

faceless stars is me

I am not in the band of lovers

or a loved one is me.

Just a passing phase

a stopover to teach or groom,

to learn the secrets of love & life

what to adapt and which to leave,

that’s me.

I am not at peace

nor engaged in a raging war.

A soldier without a battle

My biggest struggle is me.

I don’t have the periods of calm 

nor a great calamity grapples me.

My great depression is just me.

I am not one amongst the poets

or belong from society of philosophers.

I aint a singer or some revolutionary is me.

I am one of the many

who each passing day is manipulated or moved.

One of the thousand faceless in the crowd is me.

The ballad of riches don’t find me

nor poor sit beside me.

Collecting money each moment, each day

just to fill my greedy coffin, that’s me.

I am one of the millions without hope or aim,

I might be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher

or that person standing across drenched in rain.

I am all but I am none,

because this is not what I planned to be.

My great depression is just me.