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Madan G. Gandhi


Delhi, Delhi, India

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Madan G. Gandhi

The sight
of broken limbs;
the maimed and dead
brought home
amidst beating of drums.
The shrieks
of babes and women,
of wailing bangles----
the sobs of vermillioned earth.

With every sip of wine,
drink blood
and suffer for my part of the sin.

My timid self is gnawed
by grievous guilt;
no more can I sleep;
pierced by pricks.

Too close,
yet too far,
to the solution:
a convict
counting my crimes
in a lone cell;
a senile,
waiting for the call.



Madan G. Gandhi

Daggers at our neck,
cannons at our back,
rockets on our head,
how long do we go on
with our holocaust rehearsals?
How long can we sleep
in doomsday dread,
in balance of terror,
in MAD syndrome?
This self-deception,
this dope dream,
how long shall it last?
Where are we heading?
Does anyone know
the direction and the flow?
On what precipice bending?
Doesn’t the flow portend
the tragic, fated end of all
that in centuries fruitioned;
a sudden annihilation?
Are we going to begin again,
have we come full circle,
is this the end of all endings,
the point whence we set out in primal times?
Peace love and well-being of all,
the goals our ancients cherished
went about spreading the message
in every corner of the world.
But could not persuade
those puffed with powered greed
the consequences of clashes
can spell a permanent nuclear doom.