What I tell them, when Old Gods Come begging for Justice

(pic courtesy The Hindu)

Your eyes do not see things narrow

Though they are not like mine

Your skin reflects the yellow of ripe rice fields

Your sighs speak the words of forests and hills

You come to me as a stranger’s smile

You linger on like the vision of a spirit

I see you there in the streets, in railway stations

Shopping malls, cinema halls and tea stalls

Music comes naturally to you and your gait

Straight jacketed guys can’t imitate

The spikes of your hair challenge

The arrogance of mainland, silently

And you, like a peacock dances

Under the clouds of hatred, in love

I call you names and you call me by my name

Defeating my ego with your polite knowledge

I can’t distinguish you from many

As you belong to the same dream

That we have failed to dream

Your sturdy legs have climbed hills

Your strong arms have embraced

The passions of rivers and forests

In your misty eyes I see mountain peaks

In your rhythmic voice I hear angels speak

Still when you are around I recoil with fear

Of my own lacks; the procession of my own ills

So I raise my fists at your face

Confront you with ugly words

Sometimes I rape you and sometimes I abuse

At times I leave a few scars on your body

And once in a while I just leave you dead

But how can you die, when your death

Speaks the history of my own meaninglessness?

The more I live the more you live too

You are the river that flows from south to north

From west to east, defying all logics

And then spread out all over from North East

I can see, in your anger and in your protest

The old tribal chiefs and gods manifest

One day, yes one day you are going to rule the world

Once again as in the days when trees walked

Snakes talked and stones menstruated

Let me promise, then I will be with you

Accept me, if not as your friend, at least as your servant.