Children

Speak

The sheer savagery
Of the butchers of Gaza
Leaves me speechless
But speechlessness
Is not an option
If we are not to
Normalise Genocide

Janissaries

Like the Janissaries
Enslaved by the sultan
As boys
To follow his religion
To do his bidding
To fight his wars

Tightrope

Raising our children
We walk a tightrope in the dark
Starting from
The baby is hollering:
He must be dying and
The baby has been quiet for too long:
He must be dead
We progress to
What will society make of our choices?
What will the children make of our choices
For them?
How will they manage without us?
It’s…

Our Future

Kings have built temples
Pharaohs pyramids
Politicians have their statues
Ozymandias, too
And the Ambanis have their Antilia
All this to proclaim
To the future:
I was here

Migrants at home

I know migrants when
They are at home
They all have names and 
Are not migrants at all
But farmers’ children
Neighbours’ children
Kids I have seen grow up

Babies

When a baby is born
We measure its age in days
Then weeks
Then months
And one day, suddenly
It is half a year old

The Kashmir lock-down babies
Will have milk teeth now