Death of a whine

 

It started as a hum from the corner of the room, 

A doubt in the distance, chewing away on gloom.

And then louder, buzzing with reasons to complain.

Till it was whirling and whining all around my heavy head

Fading in and out, but before it got to me, I whacked it dead!

Sardar Vs Sardar

Seven decades ago the Sardar valiantly protested,
Not with violence, but with iron willed defiance
Against the rule of the mighty British empire
Through mass revolt and individual disobedience.

The country that won independence against the Empire
Without violence, now fears its own farmer's claims
And arms itself against the worker of the plough.
Sweat that worked the soil now bleeds on Delhi's highways.

For the love of the nation they won us our freedom
Of conscience, religion, of language and the right to life.
Sardar led the task of forging a united and progressive India.
But now wonders 'Why is freedom divided on religion's knife? '

Our Country now fears the views of the children of tomorrow
And every voice that protests or questions is imprisoned,
While impotent and scared newsmen blare out blatant lies.
Has the once eloquent discerning pen forever been silenced?

At 182 metres, the patron of India's Civil servants looks down
At a powerful, yet timid and unquestioning Civil Service that fell
To Ministers for whom self is much greater than the country's soul.                                   

Sardar cringes from atop the pedestal - Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel. 

Written during the farmers protests