Dead Meat

At his death bed

He said

‘I have no beef with you

Dear neighbours

Just an advice

To think twice, nay, thrice

Before you peer into someone’s plate

Or ask his name to judge his faith

And relegate to an imaginary box

Where all made-up-enemies stay

Away from your discriminating eyes

And twitching hands that seek blood

Of those who pray to different gods

Of those who lead different lives

Of those who hold different minds.

In these times

Death is better

Than living in a land

Where ideas are safer

Than human lives.

Where hungry gangs return more satisfied

Than famished farmers who would rather die

Where leaders strive to mollify

‘hurt sentiments’ of murderous mobs

While dead shoulders carry the blame

Of their bloody demise.

I know now

That death is any day better

Than watching festering wounds slowly

Consume the very fabric of

What makes this nation great.’

Today you killed the idea of India

Over a morsel of meat.

With each blow you blew into dust

The dreams of a people who lived as one.

Do you realise that

In the land of a billion gods,

You took offence to a man choosing just One.