there, the saviour...

there i was once in that village
many skeptic eyes were on my baggage
they smiled at me, after a long time...
i was puzzled, what was my crime?
they laughed again, breaking the silence
mocking at the dirt in my mustache...

there in the corner i saw a young girl
sleeping beside her dog, staring cruel
what does she need? a piece of bread?
perhaps a cake? she wouldn't mind...
kept walking i reached that old well
and saw an old man with a story to tell

there i sat next to him listening to his story
enjoying his offer of a half-smoked beedi
'she is my child' began his narration
swallowing the smoke he took my attention
'she loves playing and also singing' he paused
she was still starring, but now at her dad

there he was shot being a warrior
whole nation applaused for this brave soldier
he didnt see people when he woke up
there his young child, was not able to get up
who were his enimies? he tried to remember
memory was lost and the family too. but not the war

there he paused again for the second time
i saw the young girl now staring again at me
'she is my child, she loves playing and also singing'
i tried to get up, but in vain for my limbs were aching
'don't sit too long' the old man wispered
'for the victory was not ours, we were just used'

there were three pieces of bread in my bag
one for the young girl, one for her tiny dog
and one for her father. 'we don't need saviour'
the old man's eyes were red with blood and anger
'we fight, and will fight again, until we win...'
now i turned unto the villagers, and there were none!

brain, body and the soul...

when the body is beaten
and the soul is forsaken
what remains to be spoken?
is it all a game of brain?

for the lonely hours of night
the brain went asleep but
not the soul, neither the body...
revenge, anger, and agony...
remained as an unspoken story!

monsters entered the body once
the soul reacted with remonstrance
but the brain remained deaf...
cruel, helpless, and worried of self...
borders remained unnegotiated proof

protest continues both in and out
but the brain speaks of hegel and kant
body is beaten, soul is forsaken...
no fear, no scream, and no words spoken...
center remains a timid skeleton

what will be the end of this game?
do hegel and kant know how to tame
the elevating power of the center?
brain smiles, but the body weeps with anger
and the soul shouts, 'its not a game; its a war!'