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Surreal?
Isn't it? The desire of a lifetime that has whistful air laced with the strong aromatic flavour of long suppressed freedom. Like the potatoes of a well cooked dum biryani. The truth? The lamb that is mercilessly chopped Finely marinated and perfectly cooked In that very dum biryani. Are we. Social Structures Sample superficiality for sale Satins and Silhouettes Stereotypes thriving on silent screams Of bodies that lay stationary Accustomed to meaningless restrictions That she adheres to With swollen bleeding ears Pinned to the hollow walls Statutory control over expressions Void of the impressions of time Seemingly so Not really Suffice Stillness of the subjugated silent masses that remain in slumber Sorrow breathes comfort at the lasts of the day. Of spending lifetimes silent in sliced up social classes Classes. Brahmins. Kshatriyas Vaishyas Shudras. Religions. Hindu Muslim Sikh Christian. Severed by silver sharp knives of hate. The seeds of hate sowed When the passage of time was measured by sand. Saplings Nurtured by fear. Rooted strong and deep within. Religious phobia remains humanity's defeat. Individuals being discriminated on the basis of names and genders. Humans being deprived of their own esse. Is the truth of today I'd rather be a Still born Than live on this street Under this tarnishing democracy And this stupid separation That promises no security for Those that are simply less privileged Once in a while when we take to the street. Standing in solidarity for our ashes to our soil. Are they the Surges? The surges before the inevitable death? Inevitable death of mankind?
