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Agra-
city of love-
but without you,
it’s like separating
the Taj Mahal
from this
lovely
land
For days I wandered
In the mountains green, white & brown
Drinking from cold water streams
Eating berries & watching slugs
Sharing my tent with people from strange lands
Walking steep trails & lighting camp fires
Walking with sun & gazing at snow mountains
Sadly I walk down from heaven
Back to humanity all alone
Wondering what I found in nature
That I couldn't find in people
hiba Sep 20
born a sinner,
under crescent moons
and among chants of "talaq, talaq, talaq"
forced to hide behind a star studded veil to be preserved against blood thirsty eyes
glass bangles and silverware replaced the dolls in her hands and the fairyland of her dreams
led on a rose colored path, and into a gold painted cage marked marriage
greedy scars crafted by her lover marred the canvas of her body
only punctured fairy blue wings and dying embers of an electric soul remain
but she rises from the ashes,
sits on her velvet throne
and adorns the bejeweled crown
she reclaims the legacy of her goddess mothers,
durga and cleopatra
this time you don't get to see our strained faces,
this time you don't get to mock the dying fire of our eyes
because now,
we know our rights.
now we're armed with spears of knowledge.
we're the queens of our own kingdoms, unique in our reigns.
we were supposed to be treated like flowers, right?
but you threw us into the mud of your crimes
and we bloomed like lotuses,
reckless and vivacious.
we earned it all.              
                    - standing beside, not against
i wrote this when there was a lot of controversy regarding the triple talaq bill in india. amidst that socio-political turmoil, i wanted people to pause and think about women as human beings first, standing in solidarity ♥️
aviisevil Sep 3
why do men die for other men ?
what compels them to give up their lives for the lives of their fellow men ?

is it love ? is it duty ? or is it just plain madness ? is it that bond of blood ? or a promise to be better ? or is it simply what being a human is ?


the same men capable of destroying a million lives in pursuit of their own ideology ? the same men who for the purpose of their own greed and need can ignore the very definitions of civility and liberty and justice.


can we still call them men ?


what is happening at this hour in this nation, a nation which is thousands of years old and in making; isn't different from what has happened in the past and unfortunately that is going to happen in the unsuspecting future.

people are turning to an ideology that not only imprisons the free bird in the sky, but also retaliates if it so chooses to lay on a different branch.

diversity isn't celebrated anymore, but rather is frowned upon by the masses, who believe that past holds no relevance over the future.

acceptance, and the very creed upon which the great men who came before us, and made us who we are today - their legacy and wisdom is being demolished, like cards in the winds; and just like the structures of the ancient, for they no longer are painted with the colours we are familiar with today.


sheep and wolves alike, are being chased by the blood hounds, cornering every whisper with words of the system, a system that has been diseased from the inside, infecting the very veins of this great nation that has stood the test of age and it's many a poisons for millennia and more.


bit by bit the great walls of knowledge and of the enlightened spirits are being razed down by a mere fool in different costumes, performing in a circus build upon the ashes of the innocent and the innocence of the communities that now long for blood.


the very nature of this great and grave divide, is unnatural, passed down by the same set of hands that once pulled the chains and carried with them - forcefully, a plight of millions, suppressed and then set aside fanatically, all in the name of a devotional creed.

lizards in boxes pretending to be voices of the free and humane, casting their spells on the fragile and a blind audience, numb by all the back and forth between the gods, and as always, only the peasant suffers.


how many more homes must vanish before we realise there's no magic in the disappearing of colours, and the despairing remains of the one's gone, painted across the streets in black and white, begging for somebody to give them their proper funeral.

it is men who take life, animals don't **** for their sins, they never have, for they don't know what it's like to be tamed by fire.

they'd rather burn, than become more like us.

maybe that tells it all, and maybe that is why, the devil may have horns and hoofs, but it never haunts and hunts the wild.


we are what we love, but we become who we hate, always - in the end, until something worse comes around to make things better.
for as long as there'll be men and the quest for freedom - empty pages shall be filled.
Äŧül Aug 27
They exploited our traditions,
Divided us on caste lines,
We never wanted those renditions,
They did the dreadful partitions.

The second one was on the map,
Immediate bloodshed had hap,
People woke up from a nap,
They woke up to a gap.

The repercussions’re not eternal,
Time healed the physical wounds,
They somehow got over with it,
Yeah, we moved on over it.

We can’t forget how Sindh was ours,
How the entire Kashmir was ours,
But that was before they came,
Pouring down the mountains like an evil scourge.
My HP Poem #1764
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Aug 14
A swansong of the Indian Partition...
Kal humaare ghar ke diye bujhe rahenge,
Kal hum kuch rishton ke liye rote rahenge...

Tomorrow the lamps of our home will remain put out,
Tomorrow we shall keep crying for some relations...

Rishte un bantwaara hue kheton se,
Rishte un bhatakte hue jawaanon se...

Relations with those partitioned farmlands,
Relations with those misguided young men...

Rishte us chamakti Multani mitti se,
Rishte us damakti Pakhtunkhwi **** se...

Relations with the glistening soil of Multan,
Relations with the bright snow of Pakhtunkhwa...

Rishte Ganga ke us Bangali muhaane se,
Rishte Sindhu dariya aur samudr ke us mel se...

Relations with the Ganga's Bengali estuary,
Relations with the confluence of Indus and the Sea...

Rishte us Balouchi kapaas se,
Rishte udhde un kapdon se...

Relations with that Balouchi cotton,
Relations with those clothes torn away...

Rishte luti us izzat se,
Rishte mari us bahu se...

Relations with the disrobed honour,
Relations with the slain bride...

Rishte jo sajaaye the mandap mein,
Rishte jo likhaaye the jannat mein...

Relations decorated inside the temple,
Relations written in the paradise...


Tomorrow is the Independence Day of India.
An Independence attained at such high costs.
A nation divided by the illegal British occupiers on communal lines in a hotchpotch.

My HP Poem #1759
©Atul Kaushal
Tsunami Aug 12
The
       mangoes
make an appearance
before the
                 monsoon...
so will you.
i was 17 when i wrote this
Ifa Agnes Aug 8
Yes, I am angry and I have anger,
Burning inside me, like an amber,
You can also get injured by it,
So, better you stay away from me.

Neither I intended someone to suffer,
From mine fatal disease,
Nor, I did it; Cause I had been
Storing Grudge inside me.

But people never stop Making talk;
I am a ***** And many more.
Well, I was aware of everything,
Like what I was made and what I am being.

Nothing mattered me now more or least,
And I didn't wanna be a beast,
Everyone called, I heard silently,
Cause I am aware of my animality.

Neither I was alike it,
Nor I had become a bit,
Situation - Suffering made me rough,
But there exists humanity though.

I was same as a common girl,
Had a tolerating power pearl,
Abide everything like other,
But Not I had fortune further.

I had to rant and rave,
Every time I faced a deprave,
Made of injustice and wrong,
That only I had borne for long.

Tolerating was, I doing all times,
But with the hostility of my prime,
Make my abstinence of long,
Turn into dust, Oh! My song.

And then my emotions and me,
Aren't in control for a second, see,
I say, then, the truth of my heart,
Had felt, with words that worth.

And what I spoke then,
Is not all wrong; when,
You start first; And my defense,
It becomes for every one wrong.

Truth is truth, it will flow one day,
Let me a bad person for someday,
You will be hero, for sure then,
God knows everything; So, have some same.

My anger is wrong I know,
But what you have done till isn't an evil show?
Leave it, I don't wanna discuss more,
Stupid fiend, in disguise of a friend, you are a sore.


So, Yes, I am Angry and I have Anger,
Burning inside me, like an amber,
You can also get injured by it,
So, better you stay away from me.

Written by
Ifa Agnes
Prithvi Gude Jul 28
When the sun goes down there,
It rises up here.
When you go to sleep there,
My day starts here.
When you stop shedding tears there,
A smile starts here.
When you get cuter there,
I blush over here.
When the smile ends there,
My day darkens here.
You’re back in India there,
I’m back in the US here.
But baby, you know what?
I love you, no matter what!

~ PG
Carl D'Souza Jul 21
A father carries on his shoulders
his 3 year old son,
as the father walks waist deep in
monsoon floodwaters
seeking to escape the floods
and carry his child to safety.

Monsoon floods
happen every year in India
and every year people are in flood-distress.
I wonder
what is the solution to flood-distress?
Better infrastructure like concrete drains
linked to concrete waterways
linked to reservoirs
which save water for the dry season?
I wonder
who will build this infrastructure?
How will this infrastructure be built?
Who will pay for this infrastructure?
The development of poor nations
like India
is a mystery to me.
I wonder
how poor flood-prone villages in India
will develop the needed infrastructure
to prevent monsoon flooding?
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