Wake Up...

Wake up sovereign, stop this plunder,
Don't let them tear your land asunder.

For leaders elected in your name,

Vote is free, the nation fair game,

Not for you, they're chopping it to loot,

You will remain right under their boot.

Wake up sovereign, stop this plunder,

Don't let them tear your land asunder.

Once they led inspired by ideals,

Today they con driven by deals;

Once from yoke they set you free,

Today they pillage their own tree.

Wake up sovereign, stop this plunder,

Don't let them tear your land asunder.

Brother from brother they separate, 
False promises of a golden fate;

Over morsels they make them fight,
Such their hunger for the big bite.

Wake up sovereign, stop this plunder,

Don't let them tear your land asunder.

Nanak, your God is not their ship,

Pirates they are on a power trip;

Jihad, dharm-yudh, church and temple,

Weapons with which they India trample.

Wake up Govind, stop this plunder,

Don't let them tear your land asunder.

It

And now

You are a body.

It is lying there

On a floor

You never did.

It.

Hands that

Never dared touch

Hit chest

And kiss

To push life in.

Death has already kissed.

Friends weep

As do foes.

Is it for you?

Or their loss?

Even a tear

Of unexpected joy.

You feel nothing

You do not know;

You have

Since long gone home.

It is lying there.

It.

Lunch

As a tasty morsel I munch

at lunch

in a roadside dhaba,

a gentle tap makes me turn.

An empty plate

I see and a child beggar

to her mouth pointing. Anger

swells. Away! I shoo her;

Can’t she wait?

Can't she see?

I'm eating and very hungry?

A pang of regret

hits as the next bite

finds my mouth.

At her helpless plight,

was it, I lost my cool?

What if she is hungry too?

As pensive mouthfuls I chew,

again that soft blow.

Sensing softness, daring rage,

fearlessly she shows

me, again, her empty plate

I ask her to wait

and she does, patiently,

watching me

as I gulp in silent guilt.

Of vicious kidnappers and

poor, poor parents

images I try to squelch;

my own plate I empty find.

A coin and a belch

emerge. I toss the one I can

into the plate in her hand.

A good deed, I pat me,

full of food and vanity.

I shrug and walk; money

was what she was really after.
Tapping another

she must now be,

I say, and look back to see

that cynical picture.

She still is there shaming me,

tear in eye, plate empty,

my coin shining brightly...