Skip to main content

Listen to Me

Those of you, the privileged few
sitting on cosy chairs
on the red carpet floors
in the air-conditioned rooms
thumping hard on wood
when your leader speaks
and shouting smart
when the opposition attempts,
listen to me.
I'll teach you the basic rules of protest-
for what to protest
and
how to protest.
Stop this farce!

I peep into the deserted streets
through the window frame
that holds a broken glass.
I lie low in my dimly lit cold room.
Listen to me, the laws are safe
in the pages of your book
but beyond these boundaries
we live shattered lives.

Uniformed men march in unison.
Every corner spots a military vehicle.
I hear their siren,the rest turns mute.
They stop us, frisk us and question us.
Alas!we cannot carry x-rays of our souls.

You laugh over bread crust and wine when
we wry throughout the day
and when we cry terribly loud
you comment fast in boxed spaces
to receive more replies, retweets, and likes.
We are mere puppets that exchange hands
Will we ever rise in this journey,
I know not.

Listen to me, we are also citizens
of your country
No, our country.
A thin line of fate separates us
far from you.
All I have to offer you
from this distant land
is what I can call my own-
this biting reality.
Listen to me, would you dare
to exchange our lives
even for a day.

Comments

  1. aravindAugust 21, 2011 at 11:22 PM

    Well, Anna Hazare in Palestine! that was my first reaction, but having understood its based on Irom Sharmila's life, I feel quite ashamed that I managed to forget her. thanks for reminding:)..

    its gloomy yet very powerful. I must say, the political You is much more powerful than the philosophical 1 before.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Farah ZachariahAugust 22, 2011 at 10:14 AM

    :) hey...thank u...people in those war torn areas as well as places hit by internal strife lead a life f gloom..it can be ny part f d world...Palestine/Lahore/Jammu/North East...we need to give d civilians an ear....

    ReplyDelete
  3. NeethaAugust 22, 2011 at 5:06 PM

    ah...powerful verses...!!!
    i cud feel the rage seething withn d poem...

    the line "Alas!we cannot carry x-rays of our souls."is brilliant yaar...:) lovd it..
    that's wr the poet in u steals the show..
    indeed...a very powerful poem...hats off dear...:))

    ReplyDelete
  4. Farah ZachariahAugust 23, 2011 at 11:12 AM

    hey Neetha...thanx a lot...dts ma fav line too...:)))

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Until we meet again"

One Two Three,they came and I lost my count. All in an embrace brown and blue with a band of white. I clutched my ring But missed the caress. The waves faded into the waves But I had no shoulder to rest. The vastness ahead swallowed my tears and echoed from a distant land "Until we meet again."
9 comments
Read more

Only If I Could

The smile on her face was still the same, as I had seen her on my 7 th birthday.   But the red lipstick had lost its glow and the fair skin looked a bit tanned. It was not the red glowing sun that had baked her brown as she had been indoors for more than a dozen years. It was the dust and years of negligence. I had once shared my childhood with her. The red saree with its golden spots carefully spun had given bright colours to my dreams I had woven on yarns of childhood games. She looked like a bride in her bright red saree celebrating life with golden bangles, tingling the bell of festivity. She smelt of jasmine.           Now, her beauty is a blurred reflection of the past. The bangles are broken and red saree has faded. She now smells of kerosene that I had once accidentally spilled on her. Her smile did not elicit a smile from me. But I was tempted to pick her up from my closet. There she lay for seventeen years, uncared and...
Post a Comment
Read more

O Mother! Hear me say.

O mother! I have lost a battle fought unfairly in the darkest hours of humanity. Brutalized in the claws of a menagerie, I stare into deepest trenches of agony. In their inhuman acts of choosing turns, they strangulated my dreams and trampled my individuality. Rocked from holy to unholy dust In seconds of beastly lust, I weep not in tears, but blood. Into the despairs of endless torture, I fell dignified like a fallen duchess. O mother! Hear me say. Hunt the hounds and feed them my gangrene. My nails have buried bits of their flesh, despair not mother, feed the rabid dogs. O mother! I am hurt. I want a drop of water to wet my lips that are swollen from some rotten worms. I have broken bones and disjoint hips, and wings that have lost all its feathers. O mother! Am I still alive? Treasure my reveries, for I give up. My breath is shorter than a millisecond And I don’t know for how long, I will breathe, slowly into death. O mot...
6 comments
Read more