Mamma, The King is Naked

The grey hair on the chair is unfair

Lifting his pet to crown on cushion

Injustice pollutes the garden’s pure air

Who can tell naked walks the king?

His nudity is visible to his subject

His efforts to hide to the open bring

Did the monarch begin as a fool?

Honest and wise leader was he once

Now at his courtiers’ hands he’s a tool

Where Devil breeds acts of hate

Can Love’s angels sing their hymn?

Souls of lambs are left to their fate

“Save us”, they lift their hands and say

But my hands are chained; helpless

Which horizon will send the saving ray?

Pray, pray, O lambs, call the Father near

To the Hell’s door evil forces pull us

Eternal destruction will swallow us, we fear

Save us Father, save us O Son, our Savior

Save us Holy Spirit, help us angels and saints

Unto you, we commend our life and future.

Don't Say Anything

Don’t utter a word, be careful

Big Brother will be displeased

Don’t open your mouth, it’s wise

He may land a slap on your cheek

Don’t protest, don’t sigh a voice

 He may push you by your neck, off the cliff

Let not any gesture of yours express dislike

You will be hated by powers that are

Your heart may shout angry words within

But silence is best for you.

If you have a clever game, play it

If you know a word to appease, say it

Your life is the precious gold to hold

It’s not necessary to be too bold

Put aside your lofty ideals and values

Survival be the only aim and motto

In this cruel capricious world selfish

You can’t be enemy to crocodile, as a fish

If you can’t be a shark be an anemone

You’d look beautiful at the bottom of the sea.

Revolutions have been brought about

By minds fired with fiery thoughts

With guns and swords that cause

Pain, bloodshed, death and destruction

If you join the fight you bet your life

For a cause that may be won or lost

You may live to see the fruit of your labor

There are other revolutions unseen and unsung

That remold the souls, transform the hearts

You may like to choose one between two paths.

By Xavier Bage

Fri, Dec 4, 2015

Foggy Mornings

At this time of the year, we usually have foggy mornings in southern Bengal. A foggy morning takes my mind to my childhood days in the north. In those days I used to reach my school with drops of fog on my hair, my pullover and my school bag.

Light always wins the race

Trees in fog

Fog over the paddy fields
Fog over the grassy leas,
Floating over rolling rivers
Hovering over sleepy seas.

Fog over the green tea bushes
Fog over the misty mounts,
Robing the trees in milky white
Confusing my repeated counts.

Fog blocking my seeking eyes
Fog hiding my beloved sight,
Turning the Sun into the moon
Prolonging the loaded night.

Fog wetting my curly hair
Fog dampening my tidy dress,
Freezing my tender fingers
Turning my games to mess.

Fog, have your own jolly time
Fog, have your full fun hour,
It’s sure like the Sun above
There’s an end to your power.


I’ll stand in a sunny patch
Feeling the rays on my face,
Between light and darkness
It’s light that always wins the race.

By Xavier Bage
February20, 2015

An Evening Prayer

At the end of a grace-filled day a grateful heart thanks God who is the source of all blessings.

When the Sun Has Waved Farewell

Now when the sun has waved farewell
And the sunlight is hidden in its shell
And the evening has spread its sheet
To give rest to human hands and feet

I thank you Lord for the grace-filled day
Thank you for leading me in the right way
Thank you for the blessings you kindly sent
Whenever I needed you, you were present

Thank you for duties and jobs well done
Thank you for the words lovingly spoken
Friends and dear ones who held me near
Filled me with new vigour and fresh cheer

Forgive me if I failed to do what was right
Protect me as I lay my head during the night
Give peace to the world give peace to my heart
That I may wake up tomorrow to do my part.

By Xavier Bage, 

Nov 23,  2012 
Posted in Wikinut

Kitt's Silence

You slapped me hard

on my two tender cheeks

with your fattened fingers

without caring to check the facts

I could not defend myself

for you are an adult fully empowered

and I am only a nine year old;

a bony fragment of weak humanity

Your are the Master- in- law of the estate

and I am only an orphan abandoned

waiting to be thrown some pieces of bread

by your conceited merciful hands

I could not reply to your accusations

I could not retaliate; for I am a “dalit”*

 I received the bloodied red lines on my face

No tears flew down my anemic cheeks

I had stiffened my skeleton

turned it hard like a volcanic rock

But my heart cried of the tearing pain

And my tears flowed down to my guts

The gift of your fingers on my cheeks

will disappear in some hours

but the dent on my heart will remain for ever

reminding me of your unjust assault

One day, the little devil of your family

will suffer and make you suffer

for all the acts of injustice on angels

For me, the eternally just Karma will retaliate

Till then, grow in your inequities

Gather the tears and sighs of the innocent

Your jar will be soon filled to its brim

Then, hubris will batter it into thousand pieces.

*dalit= oppressed low class in the Hindu society

By Xavier Bage

Fri,  Oct 2, 2015