Colours in the Cloud Burst


                Badri Raina

These are the days of cloud bursts;

The smarter that the prowess

Of push pin gets, the angrier

The elements snarl, like wounded

Leviathans at the end of tether.

As nation after nation firms her resolve

To  corner the earth, the mighty Boson

Screams for retribution. Where human

Agents fail to rein in globalised greed,

Tremors from below earth and ocean

Enhance their visitations to punish

Our   self-destructive  deed, fuelled

 By this or that unquestionable creed.


Monster banks of clouds change  

Their hue from grey and white  

To war-like saffron and dauntless green;

As they clash, hot head to hot head,

I see the firmament pour in torrents

Of   blameless, innocent  red—

An  alchemy of colours piteously seen

When  we awoke to life and freedom.

And among us I do not see the old man

In the loin cloth, stepping among

The  gnashing teeth and blazing machetties;

Dousing in miraculous embrace the very

One who set Calcutta on flames;

I only see the heinous games

That  petty satraps play  to fuel unease.

Perhaps some end is in sight; perhaps

The blood will wash the  strident blight.

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