Coronapoem

Big Brother Again

Big Brother is fiddling
While Delhi burns
He’s engaged in another
Of his tragicomic turns
The unspeakable Little Bro is
Not at home 
That overgrown brat
Is indulging somewhere in
Some maun vrat
And Little Bro’s son
What games does he play?
It’s certainly not cricket
To be playing today
When the…

Triage

I am used to
A certain lifestyle
They live
Like that anyway
They always manage
Still…
I salve my conscience
By donating
A few thousand rupees
To a worthy cause
The money that I saved
By not having paid
My cook and driver

Poetry

I think I can tell
Why poetry doesn’t sell:
Even if you stop up your ears
It will say quite plainly
What you do not care to hear
Within the crispness 
Of a line or two
It tells you
What you must not do
And all of us
Egoistical beasts
Who can read
All manner of things
And think to ourselves
Hey that’s not me
That’s…

Revenge of the Common Cold

It’s just a 
Common cold
We used to say
It can be cured in a week
With medicines
Or in seven days, without

Twinkle Twinkle

When I was growing up
In Bombay
My father used to say
With a twinkle in his eye
That he works
Where the stars shine all day
Now, the virus has stopped
The stars from shining all day

Privilege

This pandemic
A life-changing time for most people
A life-threatening time for many
And I calmly sip my coffee, and say
My day-to-day routine
Has not changed greatly
How privileged I must be 
To be able to say that
And
How self-obsessed

Goli Maaro

Someone brings the message:
Kashmir is suffering untold miseries
Shoot the messenger

Attack against Muslims are being enabled
By the laissez-faire attitude of the government
Shoot the messenger

Outsourcing

We outsource
Our health to doctors
We let
Teachers teach our children
How to learn
And worse
What to learn
Our arguments are
Argued by lawyers
Even our gossip-mongering
Is sublet to journalists
And our dirty work is of course
Done by the maid

Bubbles, Boats, Boxes

(A Metaphor bhurji)

Living in comfortable bubbles
Of our own devising
We feel that nothing will ever
Rock the boat

Dignity

They don’t want
Your alms
Your hand-me-downs
Your charity
They want what is rightfully theirs
Their dignity