EMPRESS WITH A PEN!
Fountain pen unfurling from the curls
After the blood carpet why history never unfurls
Everyone makes a full stop with decoration
To declare how it's “The End of Imagination”
Millions think of the magician thinking above
Her pen thinks how he bluffs wearing a glove
Curating the structured Homo sapiens
To validate that they work on the poem of sins
Baffled acronyms of humans mark their territories
With blood flowing from the sandwiched valleys
Arrests for the Mao-Tse-Tung brigade
To let Godse and Savarkar work on the grenade
Bits of this cosmos carry a thousand graves
Each one of the killers bluffed by money waves
Spraying the dogma of “What can and cannot be said”
Letting the Constitution to fade!
Birsa Munda flies like a simple God of small bits
Working on the revolution, not for the outfits
Traitor has been tagged over Netaji and his parades
Just like money brings war on the Comrades!
One grasshopper listens to the other
Squeaky sound working on its hymn as eraser
Peter England waits to capture the art of Adivasis
To rot away the embroidered babies!
Summing up the ‘a’ and ‘b’ of algebraic injustice
Obtaining a result which fulfills the regal fantasies
Puffing off the crescent smoke from raw lips
She walks on the jungle smiling over the tulips
After the rich buckets have worked on Harry Potter
Ignoring the Gujarat riot and Kashmir shutter
Disturbing reality structures the Empress
To make the world see “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness”
From banning to death threats to be named as traitor
Her words live for the brush never leaves the painter
She still walks to settle the blood from flowing
And to keep the sun glowing!
Arundhati Roy -- Shyama Golden