Sunday, 30 November 2008




The calm water swallowed quietly

The 26th sun of a cool November

As every soul went on its way,

Some to work, some to slumber.


A shattering sound startled a city,

Whose worst nightmare was from ninety three

An attack of proportions massive at hand

And an infamous history begins in me.


I am the soul of the broken glass

Which spills its heart on Leopold’s door

I once housed the simmering evenings warm

Till I got bathed in a bloody downpour


I am the glitter of the chandelier’s smile

Which once hung proud in the Oberoi

Till I was reduced to a silent audience

To a massacre meted out by but a young boy


I am the soft drape of the Trident’s walls

Which drowned the sound of innocent screams

I watched the red spill, on me and around

My lifelong memories will be bloody dreams


I am the broken wall of the Nariman house

Who housed a crowd of unarmed rabbis

What cowards called an act of bravado

I heard it in little Mosche’s cries


I am the soul of a grand old crown

Whose name was apt as the Majestic Taj

I have seen the worst and best of history’s games

From the riots to times of the British Raj


In my womb are hidden, an evil lot

Whose soul is be-devilled and minds benumb

I stand through fire, and smoke and shakes

And listen to screams fade into a dying hum


I am the heartbeat, of a soldier’s breath

Which screamed in fear amidst concrete courage

I screamed to run at every bullet’s burst

Yet I fought, fuelled by an innocent rage

The murders are fuelled by an insane wrath

And the leaders watch, from a cowardly shell

Hundreds die and as many more fight to live

In this place called home, within a living hell.


Yet my hope rises, as the sunrise comes

And brings new dawn to an angry nation

People unite, one voice cries loud

Enough is Enough, I want salvation


Forever have I been tormented thus,

Raped and left, yet refusing to die

I am the screaming anger of 60 hours

I am the surviving soul of Mumbai