27 November 2008,
The count so far is 101 dead
And 287 injured.
I see groups of persons,
From Police, NSG, and Army,
Moving in or around
The Taj or Trident Hotel,
Or in Nariman house in Colaba
In Mumbai city.
They look sombre, serious,
Holding their weapons
Loosely.
It can happen any time now;
If order comes for them
To enter the building for action,
The terrorists inside
Could shoot and kill
Any of them.
No-one knows their names:
Burkha Dutt or Rajdeep Desai
Would seek to know that
Only when they rush to
Photograph his bleeding hand
Or record his last words
Perhaps the dead man’s face.
Reminds me of animals
For some primitive,
Sacrificial slaughter.
Cain and crime,
Battles and war,
Conquests,
Colonization,
World wars and holocausts,
Now terrorist
Killings
Made, make no sense.
I see no difference,
When the crusades took place
Or Kurukshetra or Troy
There was no meaning
Every reason given
For killing
Anyone
Is false;
Nothing achieved
Except further hatred
And revenge:
All utter folly,
Then and now!
Sounds difficult to accept,
But the only true answer
To terrorism is more
Of love and understanding.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem