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Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Beheading.


Barbarism is the child of man not woman.
It dies a dogs death every second, when the kind awakens in men.
The pangs of labor are not unknown. They are nightmares, holocausts.
Man before being kind is stupid. To be stupid is manly to be kind is men.
Temples, churches, mosques have been defiled, idols smashed, books burned.
Ideas imprisoned, thoughts buried, minds muffled, voices muzzled.
Heads have been rolled, blood has been let from veins for vain, with mirth.
Free has been the ethic of the spineless. Vertebral column remains fossilised even today.
Soldiers do not belong to a nation, but man is a moron, alas if man was a woman.
Soldiers belong to the weak. They protect the weak from the aggressor.
Soldiers don't own their heads unlike cowards,
the day they wear uniforms they gave it to the weak, their motherland,
they have hearts, brave hearts.
The mother in return gives them valour, scratch proof, water proof, fire proof, all proof.
To behead a soldier you have to behead his valour.
Try to touch it, if you can. The nationality of the soldier is immaterial.
Man can only drive a knife through the jugular of his spineless civilisation,
Go try and touch a soldier.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 16, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

On the Beheading of a soldier, note of protest as a civilian.

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