FACTUAL OR FICTION

Last January I went to Jaipur,

The pink city as they say. 

In the stories of the Maharaja's

I almost found my way. 

The stories had a lot of fights. 

Some at home and some in distant sites. 

But the climax of each story 

had twists and plight. 

The Palaces were big and long,

As I entered through the monstrous gate

I heard a gypsy from a distance, singing 

some local song. 

Beyond these infinitely long walls

There were few who took calls

For all the people of the state. 

It would not be wrong to say that

The King decided their fate. 

The King had many queens 

and was mostly busy fighting. 

The wars that were mostly

necessary and frightening. 

The king defeated all and 

protected his kingdom. 

But took notice 

of his own family seldom. 

The throne would go to the eldest son. 

But the third queen would not listen. 

She wanted her son to be the king. 

So that his legend is what the gypsy's would sing. 

She plotted against her own family

but fortunately for the kingdom

Her plans failed in tandem. 

Her motive was no longer a secret

her allegations grew stronger

and plans became direct. 

The King was surprised to discover

her true intentions. 

He started to notice her in regular

Interventions. 

She was finally confessed to her crimes

When she was questioned. 

She stabbed herself multiple times

When she saw herself positioned

next to the guards. 

Now all that is left of her 

Is the story as a stern reminder. 

Not as a legend but

Insults that the gypsies hurl. 

Prejudice or Patriotism

We were born slaves.

Enslaved by the rulers for ages,

soon after stepping out of the caves.

There were kingdoms all around,

there were rules that had us bound.

We obeyed all their orders, 

even if it meant killing brothers across borders.

It started with the Maurya dynasty and

continued till Brits left ghastly.

The nation was torn apart and

was forced to restart.

We were fooled in the name of freedom,

standing in its way would not be less than treason.

We are still the same herd,

controlled by the wolves and overlooked by a bird.

It was carried out in the name of democracy.

Not known to many but, it sounded classy.

In reality, it was nothing less than aristocracy.

Few were moral but, to many it was debauchery.

The scene today has completely changed,

the prey picks the predator,

the one that is not in close range.

Just trying to delay its own death.

The hero continues to martyr, as they obey the order.

Today they are killed within their own border.

The nation that once was home to communal harmony,

is now divided, scattered and lost in the religious cacophony.

Our mothers, sisters and daughters are appalled,

knowing that they are considered as meat and 

the names that they are called.

The belief is pruned and doubt is rooted.

The yin is garnered and yang is uprooted.

But somewhere there is a frail thread of hope,

the thread that once was as strong as a rope.

That the chivalry in the people will transcend,

and lead us, to put an end. 

We will catch hold the wolves and the bird,

tame them and no longer be slurred.

It is not prejudice that runs in our blood,

Patriotism it is and we announce it with a thud.