"putrefaction" poems - Hello Poetry

Freedom At Kannyakumari “The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms” Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion- of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision, “The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”. As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning we Indians imbibe the Western Culture; or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato Indians are produced, transmuted destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth. Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now ! Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants, by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour- in every other respects-Europeans (using imperialist - capitalist media); poor sycophants ,for a visa, the Indians: now , turn to the West for light, leaving the bright light under the Urn; cry for a way of progress, safety and food; and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body No retrospection or introspection, only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection. On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me, a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep; I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night: the surging sea spitting frothing snow upon the black rocky ******* protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair , ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha. Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death, I walked and walked searching shelter, but no room for a single son with meagre wealth. The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes hummed around me with highly rented room offer- source of tourism exploitation- I bargained, till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon cleaving the vapours of the sea, when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri; then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore; somebody among them, staring blear eyed as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed “O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed. The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south

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Sep 12, 2012

Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC

pnasarudheen

Freedom to Think

Freedom At Kannyakumari “The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms” Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion- of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision, “The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”. As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning we Indians imbibe the Western Culture; or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato Indians are produced, transmuted destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth. Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now ! Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants, by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour- in every other respects-Europeans (using imperialist - capitalist media); poor sycophants ,for a visa, the Indians: now , turn to the West for light, leaving the bright light under the Urn; cry for a way of progress, safety and food; and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body No retrospection or introspection, only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection. On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me, a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep; I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night: the surging sea spitting frothing snow upon the black rocky ******* protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair , ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha. Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death, I walked and walked searching shelter, but no room for a single son with meagre wealth. The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes hummed around me with highly rented room offer- source of tourism exploitation- I bargained, till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon cleaving the vapours of the sea, when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri; then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore; somebody among them, staring blear eyed as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed “O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed. The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south