Daughters

 

On the colorful Republic Day parade

Daughters made their parents proud

They matched their hands and feet

With army men, airmen, navy men

To the rhythm of the marching beat

The amazing balancing feats they performed

Thrilled the eyes and hearts of the nation

Daughters in various uniforms,

Wearing caps with colored plumes

Marching after the tanks, cannons,

And missiles capable of striking far

Daughters charting paths for themselves

Daughters rendering their parents proud!

Not distant from the Royal Road, the Raj Path

Not far from the Vijay Chowk, the Victory Plaza

Daughters many are sobbing grievous tears

Daughters many are dragged into bushes

Bared, bloodied and butchered to silence

Victims of hungry, salivating wolves

The wild two-legged animals, Lupus Sapiens

Prowling the cities and villages alike

Where are the ever alert guards?

Where are the oratory spewing leaders?

Where are the eyes that keep watch?

Their devotees command, “Don’t shout. 

Don’t disturb. Don’t you love the nation?”

They are watching the proud parade

They are beating their swollen chests

Among the dignitaries, national and foreign

Daughters’ distressed sobs on the roadside

Are drowned in the noise of callous arrogance!

Xavier Bage

Sat, January 27, 2018

O Revered Queen, Padmawaty

 

O  Revered Queen, Padmawaty, 

O valiant mahasati, Padmawaty,

Why do you shed incessant tears?

Doesn’t your  pure heart  feel  gaiety?

Isn’t your spirit any thrilled?

To see your brave hordes spilled?

 On streets with swords and batons

To protect your holy dignity?

Their minds are filled with ire,

Malls and mobikes they set fire;

Doors and windows fall shattered

To prove their royal bravery!

Cinema Owners shiver in fear,

To hear your sons valorus cheer;

They’ll slash the heroine’s nose,

And behead the infamous Bhansaly!

Aren’t you glad to see their power?

They compel crying kids cower?

In the school bus stoned to shreds ,

To honour  you, O  Padmawaty?

O Revered Queen, Padmawaty, 

O Valiant mahasati, Padmawaty,

Why do you shed incessant tears?

Doesn’t  your pure heart feel gaiety ?

Xavier Bage

Thursday, January 25, 2018

The Plumeria Tree in the Backyard

The Plumeria tree in the backyard
Overlooked by the powers that be
Behind in the uncared corner land 
Where no one steps across to see 
With a twisted trunk of no value
Even for the crude carpenter’s toil!

Spreading branches so fragile that

Unarmed fingers can easily break

Its core is no ornament in palaces

Nor windows in the school take!

A useless creation fit for felling

Occupying precious part of soil!

Wait, O Master, O potent-in- law,

We are a family swearing by love

Think of the children unfortunate

Abandoned, with no roof above.

Condemn it not to hungry flames

Ignore not  angels’ quiet turmoil!

The branches which drop blossoms

When they are fresh like newborn

For the children to weave laurels

Each other and for God to adorn

Curved trunk lifting them to climb

To sing songs soul's sorrow to foil

Xavier Bage

Monday,  January 22, 2018

Which Side Are You, O Journo?

 Which side are you, O journo?

Stand you on whose side?

You need not assert it

Neither you should confide

For it’s  in the loudest voice

Though you scheme to hide!

Do you stand with truth

Or walk you with the fake?

What are your principles

 in stances that you take?

Do  values light your steps?

By which  code you abide?

Court bards sang glories

Of their provider kings

Fear and greed guided them

In their words it ever rings

Isn’t it true  in democracy

On flowing waves to ride?

You’ve changed your color

With the flying capital flags

You were in other company

that seems to you now rags

How many masks you wear?

In them can you take pride?

Xavier Bage

Mon, January19, 2018

The Fringe and the Mainstream

When it is blood on the street

It is the fringe that is the culprit,

When it’s a ride over the waves

It’s the mainstream’s credit!

When it’s applause to receive

There stands an august figure,

A bridge grand, a space success

Lifting the face is sure feature.

When a bullet silences a voice

 It’s an act of the fringe’s mind,

Praised with pats on the back

By the potent mainstream kind!

If you have eyes to see, you see

If you have ears to hear, you hear

Those are the two sides of a coin

Each rising gladly other to cheer!

Xavier Bage

Sat, January 13, 2018