India is our country
And we are told
It's a great country
However, I beg to differ
Rather, we are sold
The idea of an utopian nation
A country with a myriad variety of cultures
Races, religions and languages
United by a common feeling of brotherhood
However, look beneath the hood
And the idea implodes spectacularly
Crumbling in a heap
Instead, emergeth a divide so deep
That it can be bested not
Even by the mighty Pacific Ocean
Truth be told, we are but a Hindu nation
In all but name
Instead, we put the blame
For all our evils
On the British, one day
And the Mughals, the very next day
While more and more blood spills
In the name of religion and caste
How long will this last?

India is our country
And as per the Constitution
All Indians are our brothers and sisters
However, if you use your imagination
Understand, you will
That this is just a facade
Designed to protect our international image
As you turn page after page
Of our so-called glorious history
Emergeth the true picture
A land comprising thousands of castes
Fighting each other since the beginning of time
Something that would put to shame
Even the fickle-minded Romans
During the reign of Julius Caesar
We Indians are indeed pathetic humans
Falling like nine pins
At the slightest hint of pressure
While boasting about past wins
That no longer matter

India is our country
And a time there was
When, a proud Indian I was
However, passed have light years, since then
Oppressed, have been our women
More so, those who are underprivileged
Brahmins, were the rapists of Bilkis Bano
And hence, did they go unpunished
Meanwhile, ***** by the Indian Army
Are the women of Kashmir and the North Eastern states
For which, not a single mainstream feminist bothers to show even the slightest sign of empathy
Something that truly makes my blood boil
Even as hundreds of wrongdoers get bail
Because, our justice system is an epic fail
On the other hand, you have innocent people
Languishing in jail for ages
Because nobody bothers to turn the pages
Of the Constitution of India

Yes, India is our country indeed
But patriots we are, no longer
Because, ultimately, humanity is stronger
A field where India can never take the lead
Yes, Indians we are
However, humans we are first

The words keep whining

in my head, they're complaining --


their imposed silence.

shadows entangled so it happens
the oppressor and the oppressed
such an intimacy of pain terror and shame
in the quietness of the right hand the left hand
surrender to the cruelty of an exchange
to be or not to be delusional
this is a question
reality just an approximation of a terrifying
mystery without meaning

a beat of a heart alone in the dark
we have many songs but still little understanding
about the growing shadow lurking in the bright light

Just take a good look at me;
My frame is attractive!
It does the unsated
appetite of the chauvinist
fuel.
My curves and your fantasies
are mutually inclusive!
Without them, dreams
are truncated.
But I am an *******
symbol.
The self opinionated chauvinist
designs me in his sub-conscious
to serve and be utterly subservient.
I am incarcerated as a chef,
and timeless baby sitter.
A baby machine for a
patriarchal dynasty.
My education is a threat to chauvinist ego.
My ignorance hones his misogynist confidence,
whilst my erudite head
retards his self esteem and worth.
The illiterate ******* symbol is his
ideal and virtuous woman.
The smarter and more professional
is the age-old Jezebel.
My chastity and virginity
are twin virtues of a
mutilated genitalia.
My restrained *** urges are
designed for his unrestrained
proclivities and gratification.
I must be restrained,
for him to be unrestrained,
because, share him I must
with two or three others of
my kind.
But take another good look at me,
and see a versatile womb-man!
Translate each prejudice of yours'
and see my remarkable antonyms.

I have no choice but to breath this air
or do I? I can speak and I can write
something about anything,
I can witness the hows the whys
pro and cons of the daily agenda
freedom has a local flavour
idealogy a bitter taste

discrete pockets of life disjointed
I meet them on the streets
the social body this rags when
policemen rebel against the truth
doctors against health
teachers against compassion
politicians against duty
a slaughter house the mind in action

we look the other way with a laugh
not to see the epidemic of helplessness
political physiology gone awry
oppression cemented in our deeper minds
we carry it in our shoulders like
a gun machine waiting to happen
the collective focus a borderline land
the air itself suffocated by the
politics creating despair so that
minds have no more sceneries
to dream the world into existence
or do they?

And I am made in His image!
Is that why I am so full of hate?
Look upon my works and grimace
O ye mighty, crumple with the weight

Of a thousand unreasonable sins,
But ignore the piles of bodies
Stacked outside the church bins
Being brought out by the oppressed ladies

Singing the songs,
The words of affirmation
To cover up all the wrongs
That it takes to build a nation,

And send the missionaries!
From country to country and door to door,
They will find adversaries
And come crawling back to the parish for more.

You indoctrinating Swine,
Masquerading as a charity,
Stay away from the kids, bottom line
Priests **** children while preaching chastity.

Putting tassels on your own children,
You were supposed to nurture the young,
Not brain-wash them in your special building,
You blight and blacken their lungs.

If God can be said to exist as an entity,
You will not find it in a church.
No just God would accept your dementedly
Deprived, lust-filled power grab to his ocean-view perch.

This side
Oppresses in one
The center of the universe

That side
Oppresses through the many
The chosen ones

Injustice happens in many ways
At least let us choose

You discriminated against me my whole life.
Good luck being discriminated against in Hell forever.