Human Virus Poem by Tribhuvan Mendiratta

Used to hear of a dream,
Of Indian on Mars and the Moon,
Never imagined skeletons stumbling
Like 1902 and 1943 again
Why to blame some endemic
The virus within is worse

With hunger clutching at the intestines
O! What is the destination of the men on the road?
O, vagabond! Whose village are you searching?
Where is your shade of homely banyan?
People on elbows, people broken in pieces!
Butchered and massacred by you and me!

Rather than concrete forest, if Banyan was abode,
Those would not seek you; who grow plants in pots!
Why is that other man on knee, what compulsion?
To shrink and bow to the king
And a Lemon KING!
Yes, we have some king!

King is never at fault; it is these silent ones;
Spectators without voice but always with a smile,
Smug smile and mask when they never had a face:
Ever seen any one - nay it was just a mask;
There are billions without a mask - too many:
But non-entities without existence to One;

One could write an epic on this RAMAYAN!
But none to read or understand a line.
Having said, I know it is eerie -
A cardinal sin to call names to A porcelain!