behold the dark
who could believe
that light
could end life
that intense brightness
could illuminate
the essential darkness
ours
perhaps
there is a lesson in the dark
you hold hands
when you can’t see
with people
you don’t know
and come together as a world
GJV Prasad
written after reading accounts of survivors of the atom bomb
post trauma
sometimes life is a dog’s
bared teeth
and bounding energy
who can know
its smile from its snarl
life is interpretation
of god’s will
in dog’s deed
gjv prasad
respect (for dj)
breathe deep
the world within
respects you
in space
dark silence
worlds on screen
you type
the world
to connect respect
roller blade
balance
of love
life of water
you float
in joy
to learn
you from
we have much
respects you
the world within
breathe deep
gjv prasad
This was Nattu
This was Nattu
I said sifting through
The ashes and bones
No, said Gopi,
His lifelong friend,
Only something
To remember him by.
We cast a leaking pot of memories
Into the ocean
Right next to the sanctuary
He had made his own
Like waves in the ocean are we
Said someone
Always there
But only for moments
For ever and almost never
The rest of the ashes
We carried in a plastic bag
To the hills he so loved
And immersed in the holy river
The plastic bag retrieved
At the last minute
(“Let us not add to the pollution”)
Had some traces of ashes still
Nattu always wanted to live life to the full
Till the end
We washed the bag out
In the cleansing waters
Hope he breaks free of the chain
Someone said
As the river rushed to meet the ocean
So that was that
Why are they holding this havan
Asked Poonam
Why are talking of him
As if to remember him
Is an effort
Four years have gone by
And finally gone
Are the dark circles
So cruelly painted
Around her eyes
Why are they praying
For his soul
And our peace
When he is here with me
As he always has and will
Poonam asked
In bewilderment
He is here
And that is that
GJV Prasad
Godhra-Gujarat
The girl who fainted in fear
Before the flames seared her
Suffocated
By a weight
Heavier than smoke
And turned
To ashes and bones
What were her last thoughts?
What was the last breath
As the mob lobbed kerosene bottles
And set the coach on fire
Did she sigh
The name of her God
Like the mahatma
The mob so secure in its fury
Did the people with fire
Take the name of their Lord
The sacrifices offered
At the altar of their cause
Or did that not matter a bit
As the flames reached the heaven
Of one faith or the other
Blood, hate, and tears,
They must have sweated
God
What is God to make of them?
…
And what can writers do
What could anyone have written then
The poetry went up in smoke
II
And then the people of faith
Exacting revenge in numbers
For sins committed or omitted
For being there
What did they think they were
Foreigners in this land of temples
Have to be taught once and for all
Where they belong –
Not here not here
If here only for our sport
The blood leaked into the roads
Dissolved the ashes
Gathered in puddles
Printed itself onto feet
And tramped the beat
Of journalists and TV crews
As murderers strutted into view
It was good said the teacher
Now we have our pride back
You know what Ghazni did
To our temples and Gods
We have paid him back
Ten eyes for an eye
All thirty two for a tooth
Ah glorious it was
He said
The making of our Gujarat
The water of mother Narmada
And their blood on our hands
What more can we pray for
Blessed now is our land
We, the men of God
…
What are we to make of all this
And what could anyone have written then
The poetry tainted beyond belief
GJV Prasad
(Washington DC, 2005)
They strike no terror
Though a woman
Loses control of the wheel
Hits a hydrant floods a street and is the news
The world has changed
New countries new boundaries
New governments new deaths
And Presidents struggling to survive
The years underground
Hasn’t changed the mission
Programmed into their genes
All answer the call to death
The dogs of war
Have been loosed round the world
Killing is the habit of faith
Worn with ease
They are killed for pleasure
Boys fry them dogs eat them
Now out in the open
They do not hide or take precautions
They finally found a war they all like
Moral simple and straight they think
Sixty years after
A monument to the dance of death
It is their Woodstock
Days and nights of music
Acting out the message of peace
Moult mate and die
Photographs from the Middle East
Shock and sicken the soul of a people at war
Waiting for a cause to unite
To die for in reason passion and season
A nation envies the cicadas
GJV Prasad's Log Jam 