Month by month
Week by week
Day by day
Hour by hour
Minute by minute
Second by second
The pressure builds
The stranglehold tightens
Like the monstrous coils
Of a giant anaconda
That is savagely determined
To squeeze its hapless prey
And ruthlessly quell every ounce of resistance
Until the poor rabbit realises
That it's all over bar the shouting
But I am not a rabbit
I am a mongoose
The mere sight of that ugly serpent
Fills me, not with fear
But instead, with rage
A rage so powerful, and so enduring
That I long to rip the snake
Into a thousand slimy pieces
With my shiny claws
As sharp as daggers
Until and unless Justice is served
We employees are accorded
The respect and dignity we deserve
Our dues are paid on time
And you, the employer
Finally show some transparency and accountability
And empower us with that freedom
Which you keep boasting about
But which we all know, is just a sham
Just like the training sessions you promised
The dedicated office setup
The addition of more employees
And of course, most of the incentives

On a dark, dreary day
Kissed by the Rain Devils
Who launch a monstrous attack
In the form of buckets
Of water so cold
That it sends shivers down your spine
As you keep a brave face
Confronted with a heap of work
As tall as Mount Everest
With every passing minute
Despair creeps in
And penetrates your system
Infecting every nerve and bone
Every artery and vein
Until an epidemic breaks out
As you are about to pass out
An angel stirs inside you
It seems to be saying something
That sounds a lot like gibberish
As you regain some of your senses
You realize that the angel is singing
And, all of a sudden
Your head is filled with music
Music that is so symmetrical
That it is the very antithesis of noise
With every beat
Your foot begins to tap
Your body begins to sway to and fro
A fresh ray of light
Begins to dawn upon you
As it fills your mind and body
Your heart and soul
You begin to realise
That the tide can be turned
However, just as your resurgence is growing
It is brutally thrown off the rails
By a large and ugly boulder
In the form of a Skype message
Delivered by your tormentor-in-chief
The boss, ably supported by his cronies
The clients, reasonably unreasonable, as always
However, though you may have lost the battle
You can still win the war
Because, the flame of Hope, once rekindled
Can never be extinguished
Thanks to music, you can dare to dream
Such is the magic of Harris Jayaraj

Blood is in our hands
For decades and decades
We have watched
Without batting an eyelid
Without turning a hair
Without raising a finger
Without opening our mouth
Countless crimes against humanity
In the name of national integrity

Blood is in our hands
In the name of love for our country
We have brainwashed a billion souls
Through myriad means of propaganda
Into believing a monstrous lie
That Kashmir is an integral part of India

Blood is in our hands
In our sheer lust for power
We have terrorized an entire community
Robbed them of their livelihood
And shattered their peace and harmony
After forcibly occupying their land
All in the name of national integrity

Blood is in our hands
After all these decades of violence
The only thing that truly matters to us
Is not the lives of the Kashmiris
Not even the lives of our armed forces
But the international image of our country

In the name of democracy
An entire state is terrorized
Decade after decade
Freedoms are curbed
Protests are brutally suppressed
People are brutally oppressed
Education is diluted

In the name of democracy
The Army turns from protector to oppressor
Every soldier marching past
With his head held high
Sounds the death knell
For every man, woman and child
In the name of democracy
Soldiers break into houses
Wielding their massive rifles
As if it is their birthright
As the peace and harmony within
Is replaced by abject terror
In the name of democracy
All morals are flung out of the window
As the women are *****
The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity
Are swiftly silenced with bullets
As the children begin screaming in terror
They are molested, one by one
Until the trauma overcomes them
Such that, they lose their voices
They lose their minds
They lose their hearts
Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly
Having completed a good day of work
In the name of democracy

In the name of democracy
India and Pakistan, warring for decades
Use Kashmir as a bait
As a means to satisfy
Their unquenchable thirst for power
As the potion simmers on
Fuelled by hate on both sides
Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity
Schools and colleges are shut down
Political organizations are banned
The Internet is crippled
Mobiles and landlines are killed
Even the most feeble of all protests
Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades

In the name of democracy
Consent is dead and buried
As nationalism takes centre stage
The world watches on silently
Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief
To reclaim the moral high ground
And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours
Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice
But to bow to their captors
Their dreams of self-determination
Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day
In the name of democracy

As every day begins
My heart beats with anticipation
With every call I make
There is a spring in my step
However, all good things come to an end
As the day wears on
The white clouds fade away
And are replaced
By monstrous, jet black clouds
With every call I make
My shoulders droop
My eyes lose their lustre
My hands begin to shake
My voice begins to falter
As the rain of despair begins
My mind loses its focus
I lose all sense of direction
The pile of work on my desk
Grows taller and taller
Until it outgrows Mount Everest
Just when I begin to think
That things can't get any worse
My boss cranks up the pressure
To such a level
That my heart beats faster and faster
I begin to splutter and choke
My mouth begins to foam
My face starts turning blue
With a rapidly shaking hand
I stagger towards my water bottle
Tripping and almost falling on the way
Eventually, with a supreme effort
I manage to prise the bottle cap loose
As I take a gulp of water
I spill a few drops on the floor
Very slowly and steadily
My breathing begins to return to normal
But not before my heart is filled
With a deep desire
To hear the three magic words
"You are fired"

Being a recruiter is never easy
Hours and hours of research
To identify the right people
Followed by a truckload of calls
Every time a candidate says no
It is you, who loses
The client piles on the pressure
Your boss keeps on nagging you
Like a fly that constantly buzzes around your table
While you are having lunch
Your confidence collapses
Like a house of cards
When you pick up the phone
Your hands shake
Your face is filled with drops of sweat
Your heart beats faster than ever
You hastily key in ten digits
As you click on 'Dial'
You wait with bated breath
Counting from one to twenty
As your call is received
You mumble and stammer
The other person snaps "Wrong number"
And bangs the phone
You smack yourself on the forehead
How could you make such a silly mistake?
As you dial the right number
You summon every last ounce of your courage
As the candidate answers
In a bored and haughty voice
You introduce yourself in a suave manner
As you take him through the job
Your smooth talk is interrupted
With a rude "Not interested. Thank you"
This opens the floodgates
For more and more rejections
Until you are left, with nothing to do
But to pick up the pieces of your broken heart
Being a recruiter is never easy

Every day, as the clock strikes ten
You march into the office
Swinging your arms back and forth
In a crude imitation of Herr ******
As the eyes of every employee
Focus on your cold, black ones
As if by magic
A deafening silence fills the office
As Hope turns into Despair
Trust turns into Betrayal
Confidence turns into Insecurities
Love turns into Hate
And Peace turns into Pieces

As your ringing voice fills the air
Resulting in a cacophony
Louder than those infernal firecrackers
Everybody's worst nightmare comes true
As you yell at your team
Mocking all their painstaking efforts
Dehumanizing them with casteist remarks
Your voice cuts into their feelings
Like a knife through butter
Leaving wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of their lives

You are not an employer
You are a cruel, sadistic tyrant
Hiding behind the facade
Of a concerned maternal figure
However, as with all tyrants
The day will eventually arrive
When you are toppled
From your lofty throne
Your business will sink
Just as the Titanic did
You will be in huge debt
Your ill-gotten gains evaporating into thin air
As your erstwhile employees have their last laugh
It is you, who will be left
With wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of your miserable life