To A Special Girl And Her Special Man

On this the special day of your life
This we wish and pray for you
That your love may stand the test of time
And grow each passing day
In success, failure, joy, and sorrow
May it endure all throughout
And as you hold your hands and together walk
The winding roads of destiny
May budding flowers of myriad hues
Dance in the breezes and welcome you.

INDEPENDENCE

I was born free, in a free country, whose poor are still ‘in dependence’.
N o longer slaves of an alien monarch, my parents’ generation gulped down
D emocracy as dessert at their midnight freedom party. A single pill panacea
E nd of all troubles and exploitations. Now let long-cherished dreams fructify
P atriotic ideals, treasured aspirations freely flower into a world of plenty,
E quality and tranquility. Alas! Reality jolts cruelly with unemployment.
N ever-ending riots, lynch mobs, floods, quakes, droughts, starvations, pandemics, and fanatics!
D emocracy’s guardians loot merrily, mercilessly dwarfing foreign plunderers!
E ndemic problems, left-overs of history, new ones created by ruling oligarchs…
N uclear India - a rising world power spawning dollar billionaires and hungry masses.
C itizen Jayachandran of the Sovereign Socialist Secular Democratic Republic of India is upset, unhappy,
E ven enraged! They gave me a stillborn Independence! And my JAI HIND a cry in the wilderness…

Devadarus Withered

You have bid a final adieu to the valley
of the 'Devadaru'* blooms
leaving behind desolate hearts
that long to hear your immortal verses sung!
Have you left to hide in the deep solitude
of the valleys lurking in the shadows of the moon?
Will you return someday to brighten lovelorn hearts
with the magic spell of those lyrical rainbow songs?

Did you immortalize these verses or have their lyrics immortalized you?

Nothing can conquer the poet, neither death nor any calamity!

In the years to come, lovers,
will yet look at the moon and whisper wistfully unto each other
"Once there was a poet who could make these whithered 'Devadarus' bloom
See how they stand like weeping widows in this windless valley now?
Look how they strain to hear the music of his golden lyrics again!"

But for now, they must mourn the passing of their bard.
And we must bleed our hearts that you are no more here with us.

A humble tribute to the famous Malayalam Poet and Lyricist Chunnakra Ramankutty who passed away recently.
https://youtu.be/FyVvag6yLj4 - Link to his famous evergreen Devadaru song.

*Devadaru is an Indian medicinal plant regarded by some as divine. Cedrus deodara (Himalayan cedar).

I’m Sorry Hibakusha

A 'Little Boy' fell from the sky bursting vengeance on your world,
engulfing horrendous crime in a mushroom cloud…

Spewing death, destruction on a scale unknown to the aggressor even…

'Fat Man’s' killer - orgy followed driving home the threat to rain fire from skies
the likes of which the world has never seen.

An empire’s crumbling resistance subdued - collapsed!

Did pride bow before might or foolishness?
The world shall never be the same as that August morn nor safe again.

Death - the destroyer of worlds hovers perpetually in a violent mood.

Aggressor now lives in peace with the vanquished
both buddy-buddies dreading nuclear threats from others.

An apocalypse round the corner every hour or day…

Nuclear terrorism a nightmare giving shivers to governments.
The world shivers too - the price of mankind’s collective sins.

But who’ll heal your burn scars Hibakusha? Who’ll cure those inner wounds?

Who’ll hear your cries on the nights that you re-live the horrors of that August morn when death was merciful to all it kissed?

I’m sorry Hibakusha! I’m sorry!
----------------------------------------

Note: Hibakusha is a Japanese term for the 'Explosion Affected'

Published in the anthology Voices Of Humanity(Vol.3)
in 2016 by Ardus Publications - Canada.

ANGRY GODS

Chained at birth, conditioned to believe a particular God,
yoked to dogma, branded by his sign, no questions to be asked
few dare step out, cross the Rubicon of faith,
venture beyond its boundaries guarded by demons of superstition

To explore the ifs and whys of the God construct.

His ways strange, inscrutable, a mystery!
They say God is an unfathomable paradox beyond comprehension.
Those self-styled guardians of faith!
Bodyguards of their God almighty!

Their legions many: Believe, conform, never measure, blindly obey!
Each God has his flag, religion its color, but no life its own.
Every God a prisoner of his religion.

His guards ever vigilant, weapons drawn
at slightest provocation, proclaim his wrath.
Let the others’ blood flow, if their women are raped
kids butchered to protect my faith, no issues.. so be it!

Why so much of violence if all Gods preach only love, sharing?
Are they impotent? Or is it because they are lonely,
bitter in their prison cells?

Come, let’s liberate them once and for all from religions
and set them free within ourselves!

Published in the anthology 'International Who's Who In Poetry 2012 '

The woman with the Mona Lisa smile

The loneliness of an aching heart
burdened by the despair of unshed tears
looks at the world through its grief
with the ghost of a Mona Lisa smile.

But in the shadows of that Mona Lisa smile,
unknown to those around, pain lurks
Throbbing memories of a profound loss
refusing to fade away…

Behind the veil of that Mona Lisa smile
condemned by fate she lives
her vulnerability masked by the mystique
of a God-given smile

Her only shield against a cunning world
hovering perpetually like a hungry vulture,
to scavenge on remnants of shattered dreams
buried long ago in the graveyard of hopes.

THE FISH LONGS TO SWIM IN THE SEA

The fish in the bowl stares
As it goes round and round
Flicks its tail and golden fins
Up it shoots and down it dives
Changing course now and then
Chasing an elusive dream - liberty?
Restless, alone in its restricted world
Is it trying to convey something
Will it start talking, I wonder?
Grow big and ask to be put it in a pond
And then in the river and later in the sea
Will it metamorphose into an Avatar
Rescue and carry me safely to a deserted isle
When the world comes crashing down?
Outside the dawn breaks into a pink streak
The virus continues its death prowl unabated
Clutching all and sundry it can by their throats
We have learnt to mask our fears and despair
Trapped, these lockdown blues taught me
How the fish longs to swim in the sea ...

THIS THEN IS THAT POEM

There has to be a poem
For that poet
Whose heart bleeds with sorrow
For an unknown man
Who dreading he had that COVID thing
Jumped off a hospital building
And met with a tragic fate
Before the test results came in
And declared his status negative.

There has to be a poem
For the poet who wept bitterly
And wrote a beautiful poem
For the girl who died
After she was thrown off a bus
By its conductor
Fearing she had the COVID curse.

There has to be a poem
For this poet with the goodness of soul
To spare a thought for the least of his brethren
Their bereaved families, their loved ones
And weep and write a lovely poem
For all those whose voices are crushed.

There has to be a poem for that poet
Who wrote so boldly
Even as an oblivious nation
Soaked in its venality
Suffering from a virus
Worse than COVID
Glued to its tv sets

For a minute by minute update
About the medical condition
Of a celebrity father-son duo
Who tested positive and are getting
The best of care in a super-specialty hospital
And God willing shall come out unscathed.

This then is that poem for that great Mahakavi...

A great human being
Master of verses
Painter of life
Activist of humanity
Terror of the oppressors

This is that poem for that poet
Who sings for the unsung
Who keeps writing fearlessly
For all the oppressed of this world.

This is that poem for that one of a kind poet
Who writes tirelessly, endlessly
All those powerful poems
For those who are too tired, too weak
To chisel out their tragic tales
On the walls of human arrogance.

O Murari!

Thou hast closed those bright lotus eyes
and shut me out Krishna
Yet the ghost of a peacock feathered smile
haunts thy blue lips still...
The golden flute too has fallen silent
The temple doors that slammed shut
are closed today...

Locked out in this lockdown, a strange darkness engulfs me.

Heartless slayer of demons!
You mock my despair!
How long will you keep me waiting
outside in this rain like a vagabond?
Won't you wake up from this fake slumber
and let me in my Lord?

Are you waiting for my hot tears
to seep beneath the temple doors
to flood your sanctum sanctorum?
Krishna, stop this cruel hide and seek!
Don't hide behind a virus playing Mayavi!

The mind is in tumult and the heart heavy.
In this lockdown, you have wrenched my soul
and plucked a darling sibling from me.
I cursed you for a fleeting moment,
forgetting how you had heard my pleas
not to cause him any suffering.

For years, I have come here for daily darshan
Nowhere else will I find my solace Madhava...
Forgive me for doubting you, albeit briefly
Am neither a Melpattur nor a Poonthanam
to appease thee with refined verses
Won't my tears suffice to grant me darshan?

Keshava, please wake up and allow me
to prostrate once again at thy lotus feet.

Don't let me dissolve in my sorrows.

The Mad Hatter’s Town

The streets, they wore
a blank and ghastly look
Except for one lone masked Piper
Not a single soul was to be seen
He was shouting out to one and all
“Bhai aur Beheno, sab kuch teek hai,
daro mat, daro mat! Mujhe vishwas karo!”
The Mad Hatter, the Lady Mayor,
too was nowhere to be seen
(that Hatta, she was out somewhere
trying hard to haggle her worn out
sweaty hat for a 10 shillings and 6 pence deal).

The black rat was relieved
that the plague was not his kinds’,
at least this time around.

“Bhai aur Beheno, sab kuch teek hai,,
daro mat, daro mat! Mujhe vishwas karo!
I’ll take you all to distant Aidenn,
a safe and secure haVen.
Quick quaff this kind nepenthe
and come ye all with me.”
The Piper kept on shouting
at the top of his silly voice
but not a single soul
stirred outta their homes.
The rat looked askance at the raven
perched comfily on a treetop
“Can I take this Piper for his word?” he asked
“Nevermore! Nevermore!”
was all that he would
condescend to utter back.
Suddenly a grinning black Cheshire cat
outta nowhere it appeared
on a tree branch beneath the raven’s perch
he hung and he swung.
“Can I take the Piper for his word?”
asked the bewildered rat again
“The answer, my friend,
is blowin’ in the wind,
the answer is blowin’ in the wind”
was all that the cat would say to him
and disappear while its grin
still lingered for a while.

The pesky rat was at its wit's end.
“Bhai aur Beheno, sab kuch teek hai,,
daro mat, daro mat! Mujhe vishwas karo! ”
shrieked the Piper once again.
“Nevermore! Nevermore!”
the raven muttered as it flew off.
“The Hatta fled the town,
all men and their women -
they’re down and they’re stayin’ in,
a virus is on its prowl,
and still, you wanna believe
this swindler with a mask?”
The cat’s grin was wider and broader,
it was playing a cat and mouse game.
“The answer, my friend,
is blowin’ in the wind,
the answer is blowin’ in the wind”
it said again and again as it disappeared
with its slow fading grin.
The poor rat had had enough.
Petrified it fled.

The Piper too fell silent.
It was scary stayin’ alone.
Then the enormity of his false bravado
dawned upon his face!
He threw his pipe and ran
and was never seen again.
The Virus had its sway,
it felled all it chose to kill.
Tears flowed, washed the streets
yet the virus had no remorse.

When the Mad Hatter heard
what her townsfolk had suffered
with a yell and a cuss word
she rode her donkey fast!
When the Mad Hatter returned,
with her trademark hat no more
the wind was blowin’ in her hair
and it was dancing widely in the air.

When the Mad Hatter returned
with tears streaming down her face
half the town was dead,
the other half was in mourning
but they were glad to have her back
they were glad to have her back.
-------------------------------------------

#NaPoWriMo TSL
Prompt --19 

INSOMNIA (2)

You are that fragrant rose petal
that the wind blew into my face.
You took away a tiny bit of my soul
when you flew away.
Ever since I have wandered
in search of this lost completeness.
Spent and tired I staggered lost
into this watering hole.

They’ll throw me out at ten-thirty sharp!
They’ll throw me out at ten-thirty sharp!

And again I’ll wander through these unlit streets
seeking you everywhere.
These streets, where once we used to loiter
hand in hand as lovers, now my only refuge!
I’m sorry I had to put on a mask those days
assuming yours too to be a false façade.
Your memories! They impale me to a cross
like sharp piercing nails.
Your tears, are they dripping even tonight?
Won’t you give me back my lost sleep ever again?

A translation of my Malayalam poem 'Nidravihinatha'
(Insomnia) published in the March 2020 issue of
the Haritha Keralam magazine.

HE AND SHE

He
Climbed that mountain
Wearing a Lydian ring
And scaled the peaks of success
Trampling on lives, backstabbing allies and mentors
Corrupt and venal to the core
Success was his only mantra
And power his lodestar
He had what it takes
To make it big in the world of politics
- An absolute ‘deficit of morals’.
The determined outcome of all his ventures
Was self-promotion
For which he would not hesitate
To create any commotion
Religion and fanaticism his weapons
He would manipulate the masses
Fool them with lies and deceit,
Mesmerize with his oratory to loot, rape and kill
And then laugh like a demon
Whilst the blood of innocents spilled.
The unlimited power he wielded
Made him seem invincible against tears even.

She
Whom he had discarded long ago
Pleaded with him at each stage with folded hands
To retract from this self-destruction
A conciliation she always yearned
He was like a god to her.

He
Laughed her away with his brutal laugh
And the men and the women who surrounded him
They laughed too and clapped their hands
Lit diyas for him and told him all what he wanted to hear
You! The glorious you! The one and only you!
Who can do nothing wrong!
Misology became his hallmark.

She
The poor she waited and waited in vain
Hoping he would be back someday…
But many other Shes told him
He was better looking than Agathon
And he wore monogrammed suits fit for monarchs
And believed them blindly, till..

He
Was petrified one day
When the walls of his citadel were breached
And karma dethroned him
Disinheritance from glory
Was history’s revenge as democracy prevailed!
The cloak of invincibility and invisibility
Was ripped off as the Lydian ring was snatched away.
Nemesis caught up as his Brutus and Cassius conspired
The cheerleaders vanished while mobs bayed for his blood
Unwanted, unwelcome he fled in disgrace
Wandering through the red desert,
A refugee from life.

She
Who had seen all this coming
And had feared for him, was no more.
Drowned in her tears she had departed long back.

He
Longed to make amends but she was beyond his reach
Bedraggled he reached the banks of Mandakini
Nobody recognized him now; neither did he crave it
Life in a cave as an ascetic was strangely peaceful
He had only one wish, to connect with his She
Whom he had ridiculed; at least in an afterworld alliance.
He begged her forgiveness day and night
He meditated but eudaimonia eluded him
One sunset, as usual, he dipped in the cold waters of Mandakini
And spied two feathered lovers as he came out
Saw them romancing in the evening sky.
Suddenly an arrow felled one.
“MA NISHADAAA” he thundered!
There was a pin drop silence.
Ataraxia descended on him
And she smiled from the heavens.

Disclaimer: Both the He and the She in this poem are fictitious characters and any trace of similarity if any to persons living or dead are totally unintended and coincidental.

Note: Diya - a small cup-shaped oil lamp made of baked clay

#NaPoWriMo2020 TSL
#prompt16

I Too Had A Dream

I too had a dream that I forgot when I woke up
It recurred again once and was etched in mind forever.
It was life on another shore where all lived in peace
In perfect harmony between man and wilderness.

Gods never came that way to set any man against his brother
The waves that washed those shores were calm and gentle too.
Life was laid back, needs were meager, all had enough and more
We were lazing on the beach one day as giant waves struck.

Terrified and paralyzed not knowing what to do!
Some who tried to flee were killed but many of us were spared.
Came some strangers to our shore to tell us we had sinned
Repent or their God will bring many more harm to us.

Another group came rushing in to say that they were wrong
The real God was theirs alone and asked us to follow him.
In utter disarray, the survivors were split in two
Some went with the first team’s God others with the second.

It took not much longer for both these groups to clash
As seeds of bitter enmity were sown between the two.
I tried to broker peace and pronto both turned against me
I fled with all my speed and woke up from the dream.

Still, I wish to dream this dream again and reason with my friends
Still, I wish to dream this dream again and reason with my friends.

#NaPoWriMo2020
#Prompt4
#ADream

When Nature Rained A Pandemic

I script the story of these times
When death was renamed COVID 19
Hades overflowed even in peacetimes
While it laughed like a deranged queen.

It spared no nation rich or poor
Neither man nor woman of any station
The virus swept through every door
Between none, it made a differentiation

When nature rained a pandemic
The entire world cowered in terror
Everywhere the panic was endemic
Even the bravest fled in its horror

Each nation tried to shield its own
Closed its borders to the world
Many were stranded in that lockdown
Yearned for glory of the days of old

I write to please no master now
Knocked down by a quirk of fate
We reap the fruits of what we sow
Wars and religions spewing hate

Helpless before a common foe
Shove your religion up your ass
Never let Gods divide as of yore
Unite to let this danger pass.

Please unite to let this danger pass!

#NaPoWriMo2020
#Rhyme
#Day3

ICH Days

The hot spot, meeting point, happening place
for old Trivandrum's youth and intelligentsia!
ICH we called it lovingly, with passion.

The old Indian Coffee House with its old-world charm
of the tiled roof, coir carpets, and dangling ivy creepers
on its side verandahs no longer exists at Spencer junction.

A concrete monstrosity has replaced the elegant house!
Yes, house! It was the tharavad of our salad days
and home a hostel where we would go to sleep at night.

Vibrant memories of those sunny days still reverberate
of heated discussions, conspiracies, arguments
over every topic under the sun.

It was as though the world would collapse without us!

And all had solutions to all the world's problems
that were dissected under microscopes
over endless cups of coffee in its smoke-filled side rooms.

The taste of the masala dosa and the coffee’s flavor still lingers
- a fifty paise combo that suited our student budgets
and that of shabby kurta clad gents with flowing beards.

It was the hub of the city’s creativity, where students,
artists, filmmakers, musicians, poets, jurnos, politicians
all and sundry graced the place or rather grazed there.

It was there that some of the most beautiful poetry flowered
many a famous movie was scripted on its dirty tables
there, many an artist filled his sketchbook with his dreams.

Notorious too, for some talents dragged a weed for inspiration.
Hence forbidden by parents as a no go zone!
Yet a haven where one could freak out with kindred souls.

ICH as we knew it is no longer there!

Now shorn of all its former glory and majesty
only a restaurant survives as a pale shadow of its former self
in a corner of the multistoried building built on its grave.

Notes; Trivandrum is now Thiruvananthapuram
Tharavad - ancestral home

#NaPoWriMo_2020
#Prompt_2
#A Specific_Place

SUNSET

The glare of the harsh afternoon sun
that once burned all that came its way has mellowed.
The unforgiving sun has faded
into a pale shadow of its former glory.
The cool evening breeze caresses
those who've come to wet their feet in the sea.
An old man by the sea shivers in the sea breeze
the sun has reconciled to its fate as it goes down
content, without rancor, sad, older and wiser.
Rebellion yes.! There's still some spark left in the old man.
He must conserve his energy for the last battle.
The most difficult! But violence is no longer his option.
He has waded through blood and strife to reach the calm sea
where he submerged, purged his sins and soaked in ahimsa.
His dreams lie in tatters. Wild moons rise, madness thrives.
The sun must die a thousand deaths before resurrection!

Resigned, the old man watches as the sea swallows the sun.

#Napowrimo2020

#Prompt 1

#ActionMetaphorSelfPortrait

ANGEL

#NaPoWriMo 2020
Prompt: Early Bird

A nestling orphaned and rescued
from a flock of ravenous crows
tended, cared, for days and weeks
and slowly nursed back to health.

Now she's fully grown with feathers proud
screeching all the time
jealous, demanding, she pouts her beak
calling out our names.

The gilded cage in our kitchen's corner
is all that parrot's world
where she reigns like a royal queen
spoilt to the core.

I know not whether her childhood memories
of blue skies and the verdant trees
and myriad flowers of variant hues
are still afresh in her mind.

I know not if she yearns to have
a mate to build a nest
or winged friends of the same feather
to soar in the skies above.

All I know is the loneliness that a week
in this prison, I've endured
and the longing for the dusty streets
where I could once roam free.

How I long for the familiar sights and sounds
of the town, I call my own
the songs of birds on morning walks
and the traffic snarls I curse.

How l long for the ocean's smell
and the fury of the waves
Oh, to sleep on those wet sand beaches
under the starlit skies!

How I long to watch the moon
go behind the clouds
and to feel the summer rains lash
across my face.

Gilded cages and Ivory towers
are not where true happiness dwells
the music of a parrot's song
is to be heard from swinging trees.

I swear I'll set my Angel free
when dawn breaks out tomorrow
I swear I'll set my Angel free
when dawn breaks out tomorrow.

The Sea, My Mother

Sitting here in this deserted seashore all by myself
at midnight has become almost like a habit.

Looking at the flickering lanterns of country craft
out somewhere in the sea, where fisherfolk hunt
for the seas's bounty, watching crabs come out to play
under the starlit sky, I listen to the rage of waves.

I remember the gentle sea breeze, how it wiped away
the tears from my eyes, once during those dark desolate days
with a mother's tender hands. The sea is my mother now!

It's there that her ashes were immersed by me
- in the sea, not here - on another shore
a little far away but the sea is the same.

All oceans are one. Her ashes have merged,
spread through all the waters of the world,
mingled with her forefathers' as mine will one day.

Contours or her lovely smile keep fading with time,
but memories remain, of beautiful moments
and admonitions tempered with love.

A mother's concern for a wayward son
throwing gauntlets, breaking free of conventions, taboos.
Too liberal for her traditional value system.

How can I tell her that life has come full circle
for yesterday's rebel? The leftist extremist now Gandhian!
Jazz and Pop gave way to Sopanam and Carnatic.
City bird seeks out countryside!

Is the sea listening? Do you hear mother? Know not!
Every year the waves carry a homage of red roses
offered by me, my wife and friend - ever get it? Know not!

Yet it gives such relief to sit here and share
my thoughts, joys, sorrows, triumphs, and failures with you.
I'll come back to this seashore at the end of the day
drunk and tired, to repent.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes: Sopanam - a kind of Indian classical music that developed in the temples of Kerala, South India,
Carnatic - South Indian classical music

Published in the anthology
'A Poet's View of Being'
by Brian Wrixon Books, Canada (2012).

NIRVANA (2)

Soaked in her poems
I lie immobile, in a trance
unable to utter a word of praise
or murmur my gratitude
my body floating on the turbulent waters
but the soul, it dived deep into the fathomless depths
of her wondrous verses and found Nirvana.

Anonymous Love Letter

From the beginning, I have tried my best
My very best to tell you that we are both
One and the same, and that you are in me
And I within you and even if the distance
Between us are thousands of miles
Nothing can really keep us apart.

But now as ever, you refuse to accept me
As a part of your being or existence
You refuse to face the truth and keep seeking
In the arms of a false illusionary world
Of make-belief, only to drown in rivers of grief!
Why oh, why do you turn your back on me?

Pretending that I do not even exist at all?
Can you really go on denying me like this?
To yourself and others my dear?
Why do you seek to turn away from me?
How far and how long can you keep on running?
Can't you see that I'll be with you forever?

Wherever you go you'll come back to me!
For my love is neither selfish nor greedy.
It’s the selfless absolute of all that you seek.
Unlike the mirage or the rainbow
That manifests only to cheat for a while
Untainted, unfalsified purity am I.

Give up this search for false love and rush into my arms.
Shed all your fears, sorrows and apprehensions
Embrace me and hold tight to me for everlasting bliss
Close your eyes and relax in the sanctuary of my love
Let go off the ropes that bind you to this world of deceit
Surrender your self in me and rediscover your true self.

Look deep within you, you'll find me there - the one true love.
Can't you see me, recognize me and acknowledge me, dear?
Close your eyes and listen to your heartbeat dearest
And to the music of your agonized soul sweet love.
Or return to the Upanishads and hear the wise sage say...

Tat Va Masi Shwethaketu!
(SHWETHAKETU, YOU ARE THAT! YOU ARE BRAHMAM -THE GOD THAT YOU SEEK!)

DELHI POLICE

Barring a few, who stood helpless as Karna
Against the orders of their Hindutva superiors
Sadly lacking the courage to register even FIRs
Totally complicit, the rest along with saffron fanatics
A police force obliged to protect turned predators
Rioters allowed to loot and kill in Ram's name
Delhi allowed to burn in an inferno; see how it wails!
Shame! This eight-letter praise is too mild for you thugs.

A Dawn Dawns

As earth awaits the rising sun
And valleys murmur in their dreams
Another dawn in myriad hues
Alights upon this world...

Photo credit - Jonathan Petersson, Sweden

THE CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

Ahimsa died a million deaths
all - around infamies flourished
a nation was orphaned, plunged into darkness
as ignorance mated with fanaticism blind
and treachery and hatred their bastards born.

A sentencing done in-absentia,
in the Supreme Court of Hindutva
in in-camera proceedings...
by the Chief Justice of Fanaticism
the most honorable Veerputra
guardian of Manu Smriti
the penal code of Hindutva.

His crime was most heinous
and there was no remorse
a repeat offender,
defender of traitors - he had to die
for the motherland to be saved.

A summary trial, the sentencing was swift
Capital punishment, no less would do.

The executioner was appointed
and so were his assistants
armed with the death warrant
they set out in search
to give him Capital punishment
in the nation's capital.

The condemned man unaware of impending doom
sets out, as usual, to seek out his Ram.
It was then that they chose to send him to Ram
it was then that they chose to do the vilest of deeds
and shed the blood of a Mahatma's heart!

As the bullets of hate tore through the softest of hearts
a nation was backstabbed and heavily brutalized.
Though ahimsa died a million deaths
it resurrects worldwide to pay him homage
even as his nation carries out Capital punishments!