I regret the day I was born 

I regret the day I was born,

for it was the day a nation cried.

A country full of glory and splendor in its past

plagued by minimalistic grievances

thus breaking it apart.

It was the day of a bureaucratic mass exile.

An exodus caused by unwanted , unquestioned

problems with mistaken solutions and 

causing unforeseeable destruction. 

I regret the day I was born.

For on that day homes were set ablaze.

Sons and daughters forced to leave

the villages of their grandfathers.

A day of criminal injustice , 

leaving the human souls shattered.

A day of sorrow

leaving tears in the eyes of all.

I regret the day I was born.

For that day bore the brunt

of the worst of the human spirit.

Childhood friends were after each others throats

to fight for their gods

whom they had never known.

Babes snatched from their mother's protective arms.

Daughters and mothers raped and murdered

witnessed by their family members.

The father, unable to protect his family

giving away his life with a false hope

for his kin to live on.

I regret the day I was born,

for it was a day of dreadful annihilation.

Men and women fighting one another

in the hope of a false greater good.

None believing that none side was neither good nor wise.

Deaths and destruction of the most horrible kind

leaving life and livelihood in complete tatters.

It was supposed to be the day a nation would embark

on its journey of a new beginning.

But it turned out to be a day

whose reminiscence could only bring out anger and sorrow

from its citizens.

They still live regretting their decision of less competence

rather than look for a solution of peace and development.

I therefore regret the day I was born,

for that was the day a nation cried,

that was the day humanity died.

Note:

The "I" in this poem is India after 1947 narrating the incidents during the partition. 

The man with the brown beard 

The man with the brown beard

looked down at the boy

with a wide smile he asked

"What are you doing child?"

The boy covered in dirt

looked up with his round eyes

removing his over sized shirt

as he began to rise.

"Nothing sir , just playing"

he said slowly, looking at his tiny hands.

"With the dirt?"asked the brown bearded man

"Not just the dirt sir , but also the rocks , the grass and the sand.

The man with the brown beard heartily laughed.

"Where are your parents, son?" he asked.

The sweet boy turned misty eyed ,"They are dead"

with tears falling and his voice choking that was all he said.

The man with the brown beard picked up the child

he heard all the sobbing and then he smiled

"From today never believe that you have no one,

for, now I am your father and you are my son.

I promise to look after you" said the brown bearded man.

And he did keep his promise for his entire life span.

He gave him education , he gave him food.

He made him wise and kind and was never rude.

Sometimes mild , sometimes wild 

He taught his son the lessons of life.

Now many years have passed since that day.

Its been long since anyone has seen the child play.

 For he is now no more a child but a man,

loving and caring for his father more than any son can.

As for the man with the brown beard

the beard has become white.

He is now revered 

by all in his sight.

He has fulfilled his promise

and to heaven he will rise.

For such a selfless story has been less heard

like that of the man with the brown beard. 

What is pain

What is pain

that is all i ask

Is it the physical suffering we gain

on whose glory we later bask

Is it always physical

whose agony seems eternal

or is it just in my ravaged mind

whose cure I can never find.

What is pain 

that is all I ask.

Is it when we let tears flow like rain

or is it when we hide them beneath our mask.

Is it the cut in my leg

back when I slipped by the lake

or is it the endless whiskey pegs

caused by the heartache.

Is it something very simple and plain

or a very complex task

What is pain 

that is all I ask.