If it happens

Venkatesh M.R.
August 8, 2017

When storm lavishes from wounds of heart
And thoughts branches of human trees sway away
The woods of life cries for happiness
Let the light of love from the horizon dance.

So verdant leaves filled with peace
Let yield everlasting ripe fruits
To germinate into seeds of hope for next generation
When emotions of life change like seasons.

The presence of happiness in life everywhere
Is what in the ambience one should care
So if everyone to share light prepare
The whole civilization would be taken care.

(Venkatesh M.R. is an engineer from Puttur in coastal Karnataka. Writing poems is his hobby.)

Comments

Add new comment

  • Coastaldigest.com reserves the right to delete or block any comments.
  • Coastaldigset.com is not responsible for its readers’ comments.
  • Comments that are abusive, incendiary or irrelevant are strictly prohibited.
  • Please use a genuine email ID and provide your name to avoid reject.
Mafazah Sharafuddin
August 9,2020

My homeland does not exist
Except in my mind.

It sits among my childhood memories

Uses my ambitions as a toy
No matter what I do, it stands sentinel.

What is it, you may ask.
And I will answer. 

It is a long, long street.
I walk down it and I do not hear
The sounds of people crying in pain.

No fetus cut out of a swollen belly
No man with his hands pressed together 
Begging for his life.
There are no broken voices 
Singing national anthems in their dying breath.
No children crying for their dead grandfather.

No sounds of battering rams 
And falling debris 
And sacrilege.

I walk down the street and I do not see
The sight of ravaged souls tonight.

There are no children bloodied
In their once white clothes
No scarves being ripped from the bowed heads
Of hopeless women.
There is no little girl
In her burnt up frock 
Laying completely still on the sidewalk.

The taps run clear
And there is no blood
Not on this street.

I walk down the street and I do not taste
Ash and gunpowder
And the copper tang of blood.

No salt from tears and sweat from toil
No bitterness 
Matured over seventy years.

I walk down the street and I do not feel
The burning anger of the oppressed 
The hopelessness of the neglected.

There is no deep chasm of sorrow
When the sons of mothers once sat.
No rage where the daughters lay
With blood between their legs.

You ask me again,
What is it?
It is a place of peace, I say.

The window is open 
And we are sipping amber tea
Spiced with cardamom and rose water.
You look at me and I see it again.
You are yet another victim
And so am I.

The window is open 
And I can hear the chants from two streets away.
They scream for freedom
They scream liberty and revolution.

For a moment I am tempted to cry 
For lives lost,
For our lives 
That have turned black with the turn of the century
When our homeland turned against us.
No, not our homeland, our country.

My homeland does not exist,
Except in my mind.

But the voices are rising 
Like smoke from a forest fire
Burning up bigotry in its wake.

My homeland does not exist.
Not yet.

Mafazah Sharafuddin is a humanities student, studying BA Psychology, Journalism and English Literature

Comments

Add new comment

  • Coastaldigest.com reserves the right to delete or block any comments.
  • Coastaldigset.com is not responsible for its readers’ comments.
  • Comments that are abusive, incendiary or irrelevant are strictly prohibited.
  • Please use a genuine email ID and provide your name to avoid reject.
Dr Parinitha
January 17,2020

We came on foot, we came on boats, shouting slogans of Azadi.

We stood on roof tops and sat on walls under the burning midday sun,

Listening to the words that we had longed to hear for so long.

Words that had been scripted through the lonely fears of our hearts.

Words that were spoken now with the clarity of courage.

Words that were spoken now with the suppressed strength of pent up anger.

Words that were spoken now with the certainty of belonging to the soil 

Which had become one with the dust of our ancestors.

We stood there in the waves of heat

Feeling the surge and press  of countless bodies around us.

Bodies meshed through the odour of sweat 

And the shared fear of a common persecution.

And hanging from the roof tops,

And tied to the poles,

And clutched in hands slippery with sweat,

And wrapped round the pillars,

And spreading into our blood,

Were three strips of colour with a wheel of spokes,

Sewn together into the shape of our being.

Woven into the folds of our future and the creases of our past. 

Stitched to the seams of the earth, the water, the air and the sky 

That belonged to us and to which we belonged. 

And we stood there from noon to evening,

We the people of India.

Raising our clenched fists like signposts to the future.

Chanting slogans like a new anthem.

Kin to each other through the ties of community.

Born to live and die 

In a nation that was ours to hold on to

And ours to belong to.

Dr Parinitha is a professor of English in Mangalore University. She penned the poem soon after participating in the historic protest against CAA, NPR and NRC at Shah Garden, Adyar, Mangaluru on 15th January, 2020.

Also Read: 

‘The more you try to divide us, the stronger and united we’ll be’: Record turnout in Mangaluru’s anti-NRC protest

Anti-NRC protest in Mangaluru brings ‘media bias’ to the fore

Comments

Abdullah
 - 
Wednesday, 29 Jan 2020

Salute to you siter for your meaningful poem.  This is reality.  However, the enmy is blind/deaf/dumb.   May God give right way of thinking to enmy and in case he is unlucky, let God finish him and let him beg for death.  

Indian
 - 
Thursday, 23 Jan 2020

Waav..What a Heart Touching poetry...

 

Hats off to you ma'am....

 

Love from all Indians...

 

Add new comment

  • Coastaldigest.com reserves the right to delete or block any comments.
  • Coastaldigset.com is not responsible for its readers’ comments.
  • Comments that are abusive, incendiary or irrelevant are strictly prohibited.
  • Please use a genuine email ID and provide your name to avoid reject.
P A Hameed Padubidri
April 23,2020

I looked around me
As I was walking in my own shoes.

Right & left
Front & back, up & down
But none is around...

Just opened the windows
And took a little peep,
As if a lover take a furtive look into his Lover's casement ajar;
I found none. 

Then I opened my front door...
Looked right & left
And rushed to the main gate,
If I could see anyone behind the wall;
Still I did see none.

Alas!, 
I saw broken glazed glasses-  
That are being scattered everywhere
On the ground...

Also, I looked at withered leaves 
That are falling down & rolling away.
I eyed on rapidly falling stars, 
But I became helpless to know, 
Where they fell on. 

I could see the giant ship sailing, 
In the mid of deep surging Ocean,
Lost their navigation 
To the 'invisible storm';
The passengers are crying-
Loudly & helplessly,
But the captain sent SOS...!!! 

I went hurriedly & sat on the chair-
Deeply contemplating like a oblivious Saint;
And ridiculously conjectured:

"WORLD IS TEMPORARILY UNDER MAINTENANCE?!"

Comments

Add new comment

  • Coastaldigest.com reserves the right to delete or block any comments.
  • Coastaldigset.com is not responsible for its readers’ comments.
  • Comments that are abusive, incendiary or irrelevant are strictly prohibited.
  • Please use a genuine email ID and provide your name to avoid reject.