India, soil of my bones: song of my soul. Heal my darling One who birthed my verse, my hunger, my thirst…
Published in Indian Anthology contemporary poets, Poesy 09, post Taj bombings Mumbai. A decade gone and we fight new wars of different kinds.
Sometimes I am too shy to pray but not today, no!
Not after our faces tore and skies brewed black,
and stars were smoked and we stared like that,
we were so many million poets among carefree corpses;
sometimes I am too still to dance again,
but not today, not here like this,
this Night is young, Its song is pure:
Truant words find their cure,
broken feet cross their street,