Broken Soul

She sits quiet at the window,

watching the callous city at bay,

as she waits for her next customer,

he would be her seventh that day

A girl of 10 when she began,

a woman of 16 now;

she lost her virginity and innocence

when she was sold like a cow.

The walls of the brothel

are all she has known;

the lane around the red light

is where she has grown.

Her screams long silenced

her pain long gone,

she mechanically undresses

as he comes on.

Just then the small television

in the background blares;

300 girls kidnapped in Nigeria

threatened to be sold as slaves.

She feels a chill as the memories flood

from the time when she was young;

kidnapped to be sold

ripped apart from her ones

The bile rises as she quivers

as she remembers the gore,

and the piercing pain she felt

as she was seared a whore.

Blinded by tears,

she feels his hand on her chest;

jolted back to the present,

she reaches for the blade

Her scream overpowers his

as she slashes his neck,

to avenge the loss of her dignity

and the childhood they wrecked.

Soaking in his blood,

she closes her eyes and moans;

as the world prays for the girls,

she prays for the broken souls.

Love in the time of elections

18 and eager,

She stood in the queue,
that wound around the countryside
to the village's polling booth.

That was when they met again,
recognizing each other from school,
which was but a shed by the fields,
where they had studied on the floor.

He smiled at her;
she felt a spark light inside.
As she cast her vote,
politics was far from her mind.

As the ink faded,
their romance grew bold.
While the village hoped for roads and water,
intimacy was all they could behold. 

The new government had come,
But the rains skipped the town,
romance quenched their lives
but the wells had dried out.

As years passed,
their love had steadily grown,
but the land remained parched,
Not a seed was sown.

Her father, a landlord,
had grown richer through felony,
His father, an indebted farmer,
had hung from a tree.

Despite the odds,
they finally wanted to be one;
If they had to be together
they would have to run.

When it was time to vote again
She was a changed woman,
Her mind bore no doubt
Her womb bore a son.

It was on that day,
when the polling had begun,
that she was asked who she would marry,
"A doctor, a lawyer, or the politician's son".

As she stood up to leave,
to vote and flee town,
She said she had made her choice,
"None of the above".

A one-night stand

They finally came together,
they had met after long;
lust in their eyes,
their hearts bore a song.

Slow at first

They explored their way;

As their passion grew,

They could no longer wait.

Sheets wore out,

As they came in ecstasy;

They felt pain and pleasure,

As they created a progeny.

When they were done,

they knew they had to leave.

They would come together again,

When their paths would meet.

They shared a final kiss,

It could be long;

Content that their love,

had created a song.

For what is writing,

but words making love on a blank?

And what is poetry,

If not a one-night stand?

Lafzon ko kaho
aaj na sataaye.
Hum khayalon ke saath hain,
unhe kaho, kal aaye.

Imagine

Imagine the roses weren't red
the flowers were all dead,
the sun never rose,
and the music never played..

Imagine the trees were naked,
and the birds were silent,
the rains never came,
and the lands were barren.

Imagine the streets were empty,
the windows all shut,
the bells never rang,
the doors wore dust.

That's how I imagine
what it would be,
if I was alone,
if you weren't with me.

Hum insaan hain,
toh humaari jaan hain
Woh hum jaise nahi,
toh unka balidaan hain.