Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

India Pakistan Bangladesh


My blood is not your blood,
We are tied to the same umbilical stud.
I am cast differently, your cast is out of caste,
The die though is made from the same foundry of our fathers heart.
We share the same mother, but mine is prettier.
We share the same sister but yours is uglier.
I carry the cross for no fault of my thought,
You lived the cross through yore for a thought that was not yours.
We have one more brother, he too shares the same mother,
We fight with each other, and we fight and we shout,
Mommy's dead and her body needs a shroud.
None of us listened to her, now don't shed tears bury her.
Ugly, pretty, is no longer an issue,
dear mothers dead, she is now a tear absorbed in a tissue.
There's no one to now call us indu, minku or pinku.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 06, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

improve

Poet's Notes about The Poem

The subcontinent has suffered from its own people, the scourge of caste, the ridiculous divide of religions. The people of the subcontinent are responsible for their own sub human existence and no body else.

Comments about this poem (India Pakistan Bangladesh by Hardik Vaidya )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »
[Hata Bildir]