सियासत मुफलिसोँ पर ये एहसान करती है.. आँखे छीनती है और चश्मे दान करती है |

the system is so corrupt
after rendering the soul
of humanity blind it
offers glasses a thought
erupts ..democracy makes
the politicians rich the poor
bankrupt ..once he has
given his precious vote
for 5 long years he is
walloped ..useless hollow
talk under the cover of
misplaced religiosity
besides sectarian hate
sending Muslims to Pakistan
honestly what can they develop
hyperbolic statements in an
empty envelop..

Tears on the Soul of Innocent Varnasi
every politician crook smuggler wants
to make his mark...a city where gods
are revered worshiped..motor mouths
in the name of sanity shooting from the lips


dedicated to mr arvind kejiwal ji

Anand Mara Nahi, Anand Marte Nahi

Dad Once I Grow Big You Will Never Have To Beg

i shall become your eyes proudly he said
holding in his tiny hands his blind dads
stick white and red ..but than what can
one do who gives a blind man jobs
so they begged to earn their daily
bread..all around hollow election promises
yeh sarkar woh sarkar ..the fear the dread
no one touches the heart of humanity
once they won the elections they all fled
looting raping the soul of mother india
we the people watching silently held
captives in chains as the poison spread

Two Friends ...An American And An Indian

“Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
― Albert Camus

we met via the internet
from ipernity to flickr to
buzznet ..it was my moharam
pictures blood tears sweat
he wanted to shoot it too
like me he hated sunsets
he came to mumbai ..
he shot haji malang
the pain of the shias
their silhouette ..
with the beggars
he had a cosmic connect
his pictures poems
without text.. feelings
without pretext
the jama masjid of
delhi beneath the minaret
he left behind memories
he wont ever forget
a photographer
documentarist
photo adventurer
seeking an outlet

in love with india
he has not got
over it as yet

dr glenn losack
the beggar poet
all set ....

NOTA Is My Right To Reject

i wont be a Muslim vote
i can use my mind use my head
in my constituency nothing much
has changed ..they came got
elected stealthily fled
leaving us we the people
the living dead..

Mumbai Is A Weeping Gutter Of Despair

looted by
everyone
gasping for air
defecating on
the face of its
sanctity a gross
living nightmare
slums created
by political satraps
as vote banks
mushroom
everywhere
Mumbai a city
caught in a snare
the homeless
on one side
the other side
towers of babel
of the millionaire
a forgotten
middle class
distant dreams
threadbare
the pain of the
mee mumbaikar
remorse n despair
bogus netas
bogus godmen
bogus police
conning the
gullible unaware
memories of
the riots bomb
blasts misplaced
welfare ..will the
next government
the next new PM
give mumbai its
rightful share
unite bollywood
unite all caste
color creed
when he sits
on the chair
or will he forget
his tall promises
his vision of
one India
healing touch
holistic care
introspect
heritage
legacy
when he
has some
time to spare

The Muslim Mother

Subha uthkar nashta banana hai
phiri bachi ko school le jana hai
ghar aakar khana pakana hai
wapas bachi ko ghar lana hai
homework uska karana ..
kapde dhona , bartan manjna
sham ko bachi ko joggers park
le jana hai..jhule aur slide
par bhitna hai.. ghode ka
round dilwana hai ..woh
ayenge thake mare unke
pair sar dabana hai khana
unhe bhi khilana hai .
bati ka bulb band kiya
gairi neend main so jana hai