The Other India's 2011

January

haunted by the ghost of the year gone

cold woebegones

hangover of consumerism

the corrupt plan their loots for the year

nothing about the next eleven months looks promising

something should disrupt the black

but nothing does

February

The corporate plunder

claws at the heart of my country

ghosts of the dead rise and question

the spring season in the capital

the nasturtiums in bloom

could almost make you come out

of your self imposed exile

and if you do

the mixed smell of diesel, blood and perfume

will intoxicate you

to a sleep that the 350 million

are only too content to sleep