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.
Hardik Vaidya's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (India Pakistan Bangladesh by Hardik Vaidya )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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