VILLAGERS AND VILLAGES AROUND

Purple blue shades of the lonely stream
Energized with a fresh after shower of early monsoons
Meanders like a hungry serpent in the loamy plains
Swollen like a fully conceived balloon pumped by countless lungs
Can’t stop her the prayers alone from bursting anytime not sure.


Those dreams built through the days of easing rainless calmness
Peasants now are dancing to with the droplets of drooping clouds
Wrinkles of gaiety tripled, hopes of merry piled up
The fields of innocence groomed in bridal gown of waiting
Contours of colours, aroma of authenticity and sounds of trumpets all mixed up.


Pundits readying to spell out the fortune of villagers and villages around
Baniyas are adding additional hands to make the most
Topiless panchayat politics is resurfacing placidly
The calendar of festivities, another chance for the rich to rip is rolled
Change is calling its shots, shots of immeasurable blows.


Another apple should fall on the head of Newton
This time to learn the gravity of our suffering
Another Marx should take birth at the earliest
This time to tell the world that our lands are sucked by globalization
Life has to go on lest the sleeping tigers will wake to roar again.


The bread that comes out of the sweetness of sweat
The granary that fills with the labour under the scorching Suns
The naivety that results out of ancestral lineage
Purity of freedom, solemness of integrity, wealth of belongingness
All harvested octroi free with the villagers and villages around.


Limping moon behind the thatched villas over the meadows
Single out witness in the dark dusty sky of the sleepless nights
Twinkling little stars dispositioned out of helplessness
Under the vigilance of bats, owls and wolves
Are flattering themselves on the ground villagers and villages around.

ROUTES TO THE GREEN END

There are two doors to the green end
Even to pray the so called Almighty
Here are doors reserved for
The heavier your valets, the faster you reach
The heavier your valets, the closer you stand.


There are two worlds to the green end
Divided the worlds outside these worlds stand
Clamped between the iron walls
Tears that roll down are hang frozen on to the cheeks
Before they on to the muddy earth beneath fall down.


There are two paths to the green end
Our tastes are determined by them
Our clothes are tailored by them
Our breaths are pumped by them
Our blood is insured for their lives surveyed upon our lives.


There are two boroughs to the green end
Every brick that goes into the erecting walls
Every time its replaced is legally stolen again
Our roofs are safe entry for Sun, rain and wind
Our worries are ours but also their merry making ferries.


There are two bridges to the green end
Armies of intellectuals, contingents of mafia to cross over
Roles have gone topsy – turvy, looks haplessly remixed
Hanging on to the horns of antelopes attempting to jump across
Ovens without fire, bowls without rice and lips without smile.


There are two indecisions to every decisions
While everything falls apart into bits and pieces
Clocks standstill to witness the stillness of parity
Likeminded assembled to discuss the chaos
Again to find the new routes to the green end.