Papa Loves Mama

Papa Loves Mama

A thud at the door

Mama's lying on the floor

She's sobbing in her pain

Papa's been drinking again

Mama will not stir

Everything's a blur

She wants it all to go away

She wants Papa's love to stay

Mama's standing up now

Papa's choking her now

He's telling her to shut up

But all I hear is Mama crying

I beg Papa to stop

I see Mama to the floor drop

Again her shoulder's heaving

But Papa's already leaving

Papa drinks no more

No fights can be heard at our door

You'd think Papa loves Mama at last

Mama's eyes will tell you her past.

(Inspired by true events)

Not Important Enough

Not Important Enough

They weren’t important. They weren’t famous. They didn’t change the world or revolutionize it. They were like you and me. People out making a living. People out shopping for their families. Women out buying vegetables for the day’s lunch. Little kids who weren’t old enough to go to school yet, accompanying them, eager to see what the man in the sweet store had on sale that day. They were just like you and me. They could have been you or me. The difference was that they died when a bomb planted on the very ground on which they stood, went off; and you and I are still alive. At least, for now.

They weren’t important people. Not important enough to be killed by some misguided people for some non-existent cause. Not important enough to be protected by proper intelligence and security. They were just like you and me.

So here’s a tribute going out to all those people that have died so far. In Jaipur. In Bangalore. In Ahmedabad. Where will they strike next? Clearly, they’re out to kill or maim the unimportant people. People who are just like you and me.