I have a humble beginning.
You’d think I’d go away,
with all my tiny, crumbling pieces,
that you mistake for a light black,
a dark white,
but, you see, I won’t.
I’m here to stay.
You’d find me in the roads you tread
and the buildings you make.
I am in the gravel,
cementing a solid ground
for the wearing walks you must take.
I breathe between the bricks
of your well crafted walls,
beneath the pastels and patterns,
that hide your innocent tricks.
Every now and then,
I appear in the sky,
bringing the world back
to the truth it must accept.
And, you know what?
So should you.
You see, I’m the cloud in your head,
when the whirlwinds won’t stop
picking every ounce of grief and remorse
and won’t stop planting them deep
into your bones and remember
as I rain down from your eyes,
I do not always promise a sunshine after.
I’m this heaviness sitting on your chest,
when you don’t have reasons enough
to keep on with this grey thing
your strongest bet,
your weakest whim.
I am all that will be left of you,
if you don’t die
before you are burnt to ashes.
Although this poem was written a few months ago, but with the Lok Sabha elections just around the corner, its relevance today cannot be overstated. This poem would be better comprehended when kept in mind that the context here is India’s current political scenario where politicians have lost almost all sense of propriety and have made a buffoon of themselves in the race to bolster or dent the image of their so-called future PMs of India. The candidates themselves have left no stone unturned in order to add fuel to the fire. And it becomes pertinent here to mention that it seems another indispensable cog in the wheel, the media, can’t see the forest for the trees. In their mad rush to grab eyeballs, they seem to have forgotten the bigger picture, and are unable to decipher their role towards the society, or they simply choose to ignore it.
A smile on the face
With dignity and grace
But inside the emotions churn
Oh, watch how the flames of ego burn!
Paranoia and hypocrisy all around
Is there any compassion to be found?
Charlatans and inveiglers abound
And the naysayers pretending to be profound!
Indignations exacerbated, passions run amok
A predator eyeing its prey like a hawk
Vying to connive their way to the finish line
“To hell with the ethics, the victory is mine!”
Machinating to cause upheaval and turmoil
And in the way forgetting the flavour of the soil
Enmeshed in skulduggery’s intricate coil
Forgetting that there’s no alternative to blood, sweat and toil!