Sunday, November 4, 2007

MY FRIENDS CALL ME FOR DINNER




Iwrote this poem when a bomb blast ripped Sarojini market, Delhi during the festive season of Diwali. The blood drops stained the fabric of the country in it's entirety. After the breaking news was flashed on television after half an hour I got a call from my friend asking for..........

MY FRIENDS CALL ME FOR DINNER.......
My country burning in bloodshed and my friends call me for dinner.
My country displays a naked dance of death and my friends call me for dinner,
My country being being plundered of its cherished unity and peace and my friends call me for dinner,
My country in grips of a communal vendetta and my friends call me for dinner,
My counrty men cast a suspicious eye on their fellow contrymen and my friends call me for dinner,
My country is the soft target and my friends call me for dinner,
My country is hit where it hurts the hardest and my friends call me for dinner,
Call me when we regain our depleting essence and are secure of our rightful existence,
On writing this my tears cascade, you see my friend there aren't many reasons to celebrate
Call me when wrongs are rectified,
Call me when our hearts are sanctified
And then I'll come and raise the TOAST , one for my country and one for you my friend, my host.....

Sad but true, this was written two years back and is valid even today; courtesy more such attacks like in Hyderabad.

4 comments:

  1. quite thoughtful... keep it up

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  2. Touching and it leaves you with a smile on your face......
    Arouses a feeling of self less patriotism and love for the nation..

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  3. its simply too gud....very thoughtful...keep it up buddy

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