To The People In Pakistan - On The Death Of Sanaullah Ranajay In India. Poem by Hardik Vaidya

A new low has been invented.
Abyss of human demise knows no end.
We shook hands to invent new,
Shared, faces, of barbaric beasts,
New colours, new death dance, new screams,
How lovely is our shared carnival.

I thought we would be a shade wiser.
I was a born sucker and miser.
I wanted to eke credit for my country alone.
How shallow of me, sorry my brothers.
My countrymen did not fail you.
We shared the feast of death.
We are with you in equal measure,
Delirious in joy,
Raping the civilisation that bore our girls and boys.

I thought we were better placed.
We had juiced the saffron of Sufi and the Rubaai
In our bones lay Mirza Ghalib, Tagore, Jayshankar Prasad and Dinkar
The blood warms with the gush of Gulzaar and Javed Akhtar
Our thoughts dance with Chetan Bhagat, Arundhuti Roy, Arvinda Adiga, Vikram Seth
Salman Rushdie and many many others.
Even Faiz Ahmed Faiz roams like a ghost,
In the dark caverns of our subconscious,
Alas we too are idiots, brothers after all we are born of the same mother, same father.

Brothers you now have no hope.
We know your Democrasy is puppetry,
Generals fight with strings and people watch mute.
We never gave you an antidote.
We have now fallen sick, we caught the bug of mindless trot.
Our people have stopped to think, they are turning into zombies,
Who outsource even their will.
I therefore now appeal.
Enough of a vacation you guys had.
Rise up to free your land from the gun,
The barrel that points on your holy land,
Pointed and armed, held by your own junta,
The peace lovers in India are dying,
They are not going to last till your living.