Poem MOTHER INDIA

Come on my dear sons
Communalism has kicked me roughly to the ground
Politics has ripped of all my clothes
Poverty has held my left feet and arm
Corruption has held my right feet and arm
Now my dear sons
It is your turn
Come on rape me one by one!!!!!!!!!!

PAINFUL JOY OF LOVE

In the draughts of my heart
where even the poetry got dried
I would long you, coming to me as a cooling drizzle

In the twilights of my soul
where even the passion got frozen
I would wish you, coming to me as a warming breeze

Yet, as a hot wind
When you rushed into my boiling desert
And as a heavy rain
When you fell into my boisterous ocean

Dear, I should say
I could feel the painful joy of love
And the joyful pain that's you