the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
i am an unmarried mother
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...

Modi Rap

Oh, it's my finest hour
Look at that beatific smile on my face
Who says it's oily can't you see
my coiffured beard
my spotless white kurta pyjama
and my freshly starched conscience
Don't tell me it's got blood of innocent
Muslim kids and pregnant women
Have you forgotten Godhra?
Naroda Patiya was not just to avenge
the train massacre
and restore Hindu pride
It was the beginning
of the final solution
Oh, it's my finest hour

If you see my eyes light up on sighting
a foetus hanging on the trishul
can you blame me?
Look at them how they are breeding
like rabbits in perpetual heat
'We five, Our twenty-five'
is their family planning slogan
Haha ha
And we don't act now
Shah Alam will not be teeming
with maggots infested
Muslims living and dead
but will be a graveyard
of God fearing Hindus
who lead dull pitiless lives
and rape young girls on coal tar
only when I arouse them
to defend their faith
Oh, it's my finest hour

And all you pseudo secularists
what do you make of
Swaminarayan killings
the brutal siege of our shrine
and the plunder of our pride
It's time to let the Hindu rise
Time to fan the communal fire
Call me the Butcher of Gujarat
Renounce your religion
I care damn
You are Hindus in sheepskins
I am your deliverer from
the menace of Miyan Musharraf
When time shall come
like rats you will scurry to me
And then I shall laugh my sardonic
laugh and together we shall make
a state policy for ethnic cleansing
Without any pretence or shibboleths
to these English presswallahs

Oh, it's my finest hour
And I await the final countdown.

(This is the third part of the Gujarat trilogy. The first two poems, I renounce religion, and, Butcher of Gujarat, were published on websites all over the world.)

( 01 October 2002 )