Collateral damage

Surjit Aribamm

The vortex of violence spins at its sweet will,
Swift one moment and slow the next
Now and then, it swallows up neighbourhoods
And exhales smoke of burning houses
Echoes of painful cries and screams
And heavy stench of charred flesh.

Many are the innocent souls devoured
And then vomited out dead.
These deaths are very diabolical
Begotten from the womb of hatred
Nurtured in the miasma of hostility—
Hostility immune to human mercy.

We are left standing in the midst of ruins
Shaking with a quiet useless rage
While the rulers remain looking away.
Cutting ribbons and being garlanded
Are the things enjoyed by the local leader,
While oblivious to the rule of law.

Boasting to the world is the central chief,
Saying our country is the Vishwaguru
While one part of it is oozing blood—
Blood of the helpless being traded away
For a dark ruthless sinister game plan—
A chanyaka or machiavellian scheme—

A scheme of letting narco terrorism
Act as a bulwark against insurgency.
So, all of them, mostly innocent civilians
Who have perished in this violence—
An engineered violence- are expendables,
Collateral damage answerable to no one.