Mumbai

(This poem was written in December 2008 immediately after the 26/11 terror attack on Mumbai. The incident is back in news again.) Mumbai lies bleeding again, Ah me, she has been struck By men of satanic design, Senseless scary specters, In a horrible dance of terror. She had seen her children die In riots, blasts and fire, They are again mowed down Now in a nightmare By wickedness unparalleled, Devilish and devious. Beautiful, bejeweled and demure She made it always sure That her children never had to suffer And that they laughed aloud Through summer, rain and cold, Whether they huddled in huts, Slept on littered pavements, Were stacked like sardines In streaking trains, clad in sweat, Or ensconced in comfort On Malabar, Pali, Cumbala Hills. Her lap was home For all those who came From distant lands Indian and abroad, She was home for the persecuted From all over the globe, A cultured madam to the sailors, Who set foot on her shores, In their quest for gold and scents, Gems, wisdom and condiments. Her children were of diverse hue Like a bird's colorful plume, Like a rainbow on Arabian Sea In the glitter of monsoon eve. In you were blended, dear Mumbai, Passion, culture, spice of life, Hidden beneath your wealth and posh Indeed was an unseen bond That tied us rich and poor All alike like gleaming gems In a necklace of Indianness, A marvel as ancient as Ganges And our sacred unwritten scriptures. We walked your streets Like in a dream As do romantic leads In fairy-tales feathery light Played on our silver-screens. Our goals were sure, Our eyes azure, We never had time for care, Your embrace was so secure. Temple, church and mosque we built Together in one-nation spirit. We didn't think even the least Varied Gods in them we placed, For something sacred from our past Told us we were never apart. We cackled like Diwali crackers As we feasted Ramadan nights, We smiled like Christmas morn, We were always one and one. Alas, gone are those golden days Of trust, friendship, healthy sport. Ours now is a miserable lot Full of distrust, venomous thought. Laughter and felicity we forgot, Distraught we are by the thought: 'The man next doors has a scheming look, Looks askance, he's a crook, Oh God, he has a different God, Time now I preserved mine dear Lord'. We lost our sleep, we lost our mirth, We lost our soul of Indianness, We built walls and barbed their tops Mounting on them barking guns. Indians died and in their place, Hindus, Muslims, Christians rose, Language split our souls apart, For sons of the soil we all fought. Down we sank - a diseased nation Fertile ground for contagion. Misguided religion, death and terror, Our enemies have them without any measure. They are indeed a vilely lot, Who place bombs in market hearts, Desecrate all our holy hearths, Shoot and kill us sans any thought. Drunk of political power, drained of wit, Leaders of the masses wilt, Cringing for crumbs, alms and favor On long corridors of power, Puppets moved by perpetrators Of crimes, arson, riots, who conspire To undermine what remains Of our humane Indianness And our strides in sciences All the way up to the Moon's surface. Impotent we stand and witness The gruesome terror senseless, A volcanic rage fumes inside As poor Mumbai bleeds and wails Her sons fall in acts of bravery Never heard before in history Sanguine buds in a sacrificial pit In the darkness of November nights. A nation cries aloud to heavens To send her a savior son, Alas! in the pitch darkness around Will she ever find that dear one? Will her prayers ever be heard? Will he come half-clad, With a disarming smile, bespectacled, Holding a walking stick, of concrete will, Speaking a language of peace? Or will he be seen under a tree With a message to set us free In the Kingdom of our Indianness Of Love's Universal Consciousness? Peace, Peace, Peace.