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This Seat is Reserved April 24, 2010

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
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Your seat
To that man in front of you!
He is old and wobbly.
Is your excuse?

And while you sit there,
Let us talk about the ‘ladiej’.
Every time you claim it,
Do you let it
Hijack, divert, distract,
From your fragrant, enticing, dangerous,
Chamber of living death,
(Hi. I am only 22.39% oppressed. And you?)
Golden bird, middle class,
In that proverbial cage?

When does your vagina
Entitle you to a seat?
Never when you are face to face
With a wobbly old man on his feet.


‘We, Will not be, Washed away’ April 21, 2010

Posted by K in Uncategorized.
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1 comment so far

Today I think I was in a train
Full of a fraction of the
25 (2.5) lakh right-wing, orange coloured,
Trishul flavoured, Hindutva brigade,
That marched to the temple of democracy
(The Indian Parliament House)
To condemn price rise.

As I stood, back against the wall,
Wondering whether I over-imagined
The unnatural crowd at an unnatural hour,
A bhajan rings, the phone jarring my tense nerves.
A tabeez on an arm, an open file
(A checklist of his brigade?)
And I thought
What if I were Muslim?
Would my fear multiply and my
Nerves be keen to hide not just
Listening to Grasshoppers
(half-read in my bag)?

Were I Muslim,
Would they demand to check my penis,
And chop my limbs one by one,
And scatter them on the tracks?

Or, since I am not,
Like a hot iron rod,
Pierce one another,
Through my corrupt (by default)Hindu mind?
To neutralise the ‘infection’
That swells the belly of my thoughts?

The more I scream, the cleaner the purge?
Like the hot, iron rods
That pierced the distended bellies
Of mal-nutritioned, adivasi children
In Jharkhand?

(Trust you read yesterday’s Hindustan Times,
Mr. Minister, Home Minister, every Minister)

Like Operations Greenhunt, AFSPA,
That continue to pierce the flesh of India?

Oh that barbaric, primitive, deceptive rod!
Like passing the parcel,
UPA I held it by night
(And the NDA)
by day.

Unbroken cycles, conjugated
With rallies of twenty five
(two point five?) lakh
Against price rise.

With love from,
The Tatas, Ambanis, Birlas…
And a kiss from
That shiny, sparkly, new superpower