Columnists
SMEARS OF SAFFRON:
Another 'Ode' to Indian Nationalism
SARBPREET SINGH
This is the third in a series of poems and essays by Sarbpreet Singh, marking the 30th year since India's 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms.
The Saffron Dawn
Is here at last
Not cool and hazy
Brighter than the
Midday Sun
It rips off cunning veils
That you fought so hard
To paint on your pockmarked
Face
The soft lines of compassion
On your face were lies
That was blood on your lips
Not glossy paint
It wasn't kohl
That lined your eyes
But human ashes yet not cool
Naked you stand in the harsh light
Avarice, hatred your eyes reveal
Your breasts are empty withered dry
You have never nurtured
You will never heal
Your eyes wander
Dart in desperate search
For someone to pay
The price of your Shame
But who will you point to now
Who will you blame
For did this gruesome dawn
Not burst from your womb
October 28, 2013