I

II

Planet in Peril
Poet’s Lament
 III

THE VISIONARY OF NUCLEAR-FREE,

NON-VIOLENT WORLD ORDER,

SEER-STATESMAN,
THE ILLUSTRIOUS SON OF INDIA,

LATE SHRI RAJIV GANDHI

FORMER PRIME MINISTER OF INDIA

WHOSE IMAGE SHALL NOT FADE

IV
 V

Planet in Peril
Poet’s Lament

Madan G. Gandhi

GANDHI EARTH VISION FOUNDATION

H-23/16, DLF PHASE-I

GURGAON-122002, HARYANA (INDIA)
 VI

© GANDHI EARTH VISION FOUNDATION

First Published 2004

Price : Rs. 250/- ($40)

ISBN NO. : 81-88871-01-X

Written by Madan G. Gandhi

Published by:
Gandhi Earth Vision Foundation
H-23/16 DLF Phase-I
Gurgaon-122002.
Haryana (India)
Phone: 0124-5054392

e-Mail : southasianews@rediffmail.com

Printed & Typeset by BMC Datasoft (P.) Ltd., New Delhi

e-mail: info@bmcdatasoft.com
 VII

CONTENTS

Self’s Orchestra 11
A Courtesan 12
Holocaust Rehearsals 13
Crashing Heavens 14
A Flaming Heath 15
The Blind End 16
Suicide 17
The Border 18
My Assault 19
An Eerie Silence 20
Catastrophic Flood 21
A No-Win Game 22
Even The Skeleton 23
The Perennial Sermon 24
The Acrid Smoke 25
Never-Healing Wound 26
I Explode 27
Columns Of Smoke 28
Chaos On Wheels 29
 VIII

National Pride 30
Cancerous War 31
All-Deserted 32
Mines All The Way 33
A Zero-Sum Game 34
The Lurid Light 35
Nausea 36
The Blasted Future 37
The Charred Heavens 38
No Sun, None! 39
Man-Made Hell 40
A Raving Sea 41
A New Crop 42
The Futility 43
A Year 44
Flying Doves 45
The Splendour 47
The Luminous Web 49
The Aftermath 50
Burnt-Out Planet 51
Dazed Sleep 52
White Blood 53
 IX

Fractured Dreams 54
War's Deluge 55
My Murderer's Face 56
The Invisible Jury 57
Erupting Volcano 60
A Frozen Moment 61
Dying Man’s Declaration 62
Wailing Bangles 63
Nuclear Winter 64
A Frozen Sky 65
Shredded Glory 66
How Long? 67
Treaties 68
Freedom’s Flag 69
Compassion’s Rain 70
Ember Dawn 71
Every Mother 72
The Precipice 73
Brown Bread 74
Awakened People 75
Your Calligraphy 76
Nuclear Fire 77
 X

Sun-Gazer 78
Anguished Cry 79
Collective Homicide 80
The Poet 83
Sadist Maestro 84
Man 85
The Same Essence 86
The Ordained Mission 87
Bone –Weapons 89
Roll It Green 90
Cosmic Red 91
Beyond Recognition 92
Life-Swallows 93
A Mission To Redeem 94
Son Of Ganga 96
Confluence 97
Forever Green 98
Fulfillment 99
Earth-Citizen 100
Earth-Citizenry 101
I Salute Them All 102
Can A Poet Die At All? 104
 XI

SELF’S ORCHESTRA

The lotuses bloom,

the vision,
appareled in spring,
smiles and sings.

Attuned to self’s orchestra,

I go blessing every being.

Enter the snake:

withered the leaf,
stained the petal,
shattered my quiet.
 XII

A COURTESAN

A courtesan entices
the innocent into a bear-hug,
whips up communal passions
in the profligacy of desire.

Inside my skull
hellish fires rage
as I gamble
for the throne.

A witch lures
the hordes
to stoke the cauldron,
to taste the ultimate power.

On my face
the red shame
not to be washed.
 XIII

HOLOCAUST REHEARSALS
Daggers at our neck,
cannons at our back,
rockets on our head,
how long do we go on
with our holocaust rehearsals?

How long can we sleep

in doomsday dread,
in balance of terror,
in MAD syndrome?

This self-deception,
this dope dream,
how long shall it last?

Where are we heading?

Does anyone know
the direction and the flow?
On what precipice bending?

Doesn’t the flow portend

the tragic, fated end of all
that in centuries fruitioned;
a sudden annihilation?

Are we going to begin again,

have we come full circle,
is this the end of all endings,
the point whence we set out in primal times?

Peace love and well-being of all,

the goals our ancients cherished
went about spreading the message
in every corner of the world.

But could not persuade

those puffed with powered greed
the consequences of clashes
can spell a permanent nuclear doom.
 XIV

CRASHING HEAVENS

Navigating the globe,

voyaging in space,
what has he brought—
star wars and nuclear winters.

Every advance is not progress,

every discovery not a blessing
but a mixed fare hiding a nightmare,
kicking up a hornet’s nest.

What will you say of him

who caused the Chernobyl, the Bhopal,
the explosions in the gulf,
the depredations in Iraq?

It is he who in a fit
shall push the button,
bring down the heavens crashing
and unleash doomsday flames.
 XV

A FLAMING HEATH

The owl sits on the top,

we shall surely come to grief;
the storm is a prelude
to imminent doom.

The theory of mutual-deterrence,

of mutually assured destruction,
but pleas for precarious peace,
a prelude to doomsday siren.

Blooming youth is pushed down

into the jaws of death,
spring-eyed garden turns
into a flaming heath.

The war to end all wars

will be fought
not with cannons
but with star weapons.
 XVI

THE BLIND END

It is the edge
of the perilous ridge;
“Withdraw,” I say “Withdraw”,
the fall will be headlong.

No star for a witness,

no songster for a dirge;
the end will be blind,
leaving no trace behind.

This way lies instant doom,

the abyss of gaping gloom,
night of total annihilation,
caused by nuclear radiation.

Only the fraternal bond will hold

amidst clanging of creeds,
a war-free world will come to birth
through consciousness of common earth.

The die is cast,

hell or holocaust;
only a seer’s wisdom can avail
to pull man back.
 XVII

SUICIDE

Where to escape,
pollution everywhere:
on high peaks of snow,
in outer space,
above and below.

Where to hide:
all roads lead to suicide.
 XVIII

THE BORDER

Boarder is a narrow strip

along a steep edge,
a line that divides safe and unsafe,
us from them,
in a state of constant transition;
its denizens,
the prohibited and the forbidden.
 XIX

MY ASSAULT

I tend my piece of land

where my dead are buried,
shorten the grass,
trim the shoots,
pile up the soil
to level the lawn.

I shear every sheep,

denude every grove,
despoil every garden.

Half the world I have laid waste,

the other half is waiting for my assault;
soon I shall finish my mission
turn bounteous earth into a wasteland.

I have found new pastures

in other spheres,
I go colonizing in advance
to shift well in time.

So, I am complacent
to deforestation, ecocide,
wholesale pollution,
death of the ocean.

Absolutely dead to
the planet in peril,
what may befall
my children!
 XX

AN EERIE SILENCE

Before the curtain

rings down
and an eerie silence
envelops;
turn
the floodlights on
exposing the monster
brandishing its claws.

The bloodshot eyes,

the helmeted head,
the big-booted thud,
sirens,
batons,
blasts,
explosions.

Unsettle every equation,

break every syllable
of the universe.
 XXI

CATASTROPHIC FLOOD

One day,
you will rue the dreadful deed
when gloom shall overcast the sky
yellow smog clamp the blackout.

Catastrophic floods inundate

the green pastures and dales,
turning orchards
into desolate waste.

The chill blight of winter

strikes at the very root
killing life in the womb,
none there to hear your lament.
 XXII

A NO-WIN GAME

Civilization on the rack,

the wheel of fire in top gear,
no hope of respite.

This black and white,

this flash point
of racial dissension,
this fuse for annihilation
in the name of man’s liberation,
of ushering him into freedom’s dawn
in equality’s sun.

Anger and hatred,

the propellers
of mortal destiny,
of nations and empires.

Mind-blowing, nerve-racking,
competition in all spheres
is a no-win game
with stakes so heavy.

Desecrate monuments,
pagodas and cathedrals.
Train cannons at every treasure,
indiscriminately on everyone.
 XXIII

EVEN THE SKELETON

Stop mining the earth,

shooting of stars in space;
once the button is pressed,
the cosmos will be blown off.

Who is over there hiding weapons?

Smuggling arms over the land and sea?
Targeting churches and mosques, habitats and hospitals.
One day even the hidden skeletons will explode.
 XXIV

THE PERENNIAL SERMON

Where are those hallowed seats

of love and peace
where lights shone
to proclaim the perennial sermon?

All lost
in the fury,
be it Bamiyaan or Bethlehem
Sinai or Jerusalem.

We now hear
gun’s ceaseless roar,
ear-splitting explosions
and cannon’s thunder.
 XXV

THE ACRID SMOKE

A non-violent nuclear-free world

the chant of a battle-weary man,
the dream of everyone.

The crusade
for a war-free world
will go on.

The enemy of man are they

who mouth pleas
for the bomb,
trade in death,
let loose the hounds,
guillotine
the sons of peace.

This acrid smoke

chokes my throat,
drowns my affection
in the cacophony of bombs.
 XXVI

NEVER-HEALING WOUND

The cannon balls flew,

with them my child too.

True to my grain,
stoically I accept it.

But
it leaves a wound
that shall never heal,
a void never to be filled
though I conquer
the world.
 XXVII

I EXPLODE

I explode
in my shell,
my radio-active waves
pierce through granite walls,
spread in all directions,
encompass the globe.

All efforts to contain me,

fail.
 XXVIII

COLUMNS OF SMOKE

These columns of smoke

curling up the sky
are no remains of offerings,
no unaccepted oblations.

These are no fires

lit for sacrifice
but giant flares
that will swallow
the entire.

Having engulfed the earth

they swirl and whirl
to embrace
the roof of the world.
 XXIX

CHAOS ON WHEELS

This rock and roll,

these earthquake-like tremors,
of rolling skies,
of flaming seas.

The apocalypse,
cosmic cataclysm,
the elemental fission,
in one sweep.

Beyond shock waves

of pre-genesised darkness,
blazing chaos on wheels
exploding in butterflies.
 XXX

NATIONAL PRIDE

What choice:
exploded hopes,
blasted dreams,
before and after—
the bellowing cannons.

A stern command:
the horror of
gallant men
in battlelines
shouting “kill”, “kill”;
the vultures hovering over,
the blood-dripping skies.

These warring hordes,

mouthing prayers for peace,
hiding weapons in their sleeves,
opt for hell
for good reasons:
to safeguard honour,
dignity and freedom,
enduring justice and self defence
all that goes with national pride.
 XXXI

CANCEROUS WAR

A gnawing cancerous war

eating up relentlessly
every fibre, every cell,
cutting the lifeline,
blasting the whole.

Cities deserted,
stench of the decomposed
fouling the spring.

No more warm winds,

no more splashes of colour,
no more fields and pastures.
No streak of vermilion
in the smog-filled sky.

A nuclear blast,
all-killing its sweep,
turns earth into cinders
singeing the very roots of life.
 XXXII

ALL-DESERTED

The earth hit

by thunderbolt,
seas by radiation
space by pollution.

Where to go this night?

All-deserted, no light.

They have blinded my sun,

they have denuded my earth.
 XXXIII

MINES ALL THE WAY

Kick stones
and lick dust,
mines all the way.

Gallop on steely steed

on acres of hate,
kick up smoke
to choke the aged and infirm.

Slit throat of valiant sons,

bombard hospitals
and hovels of the poor,
maim and kill children
strike at the mother’s womb
in the never-ending war.

Explode all dreams,

shatter all plans,
create hell,
burn and be burnt.
 XXXIV

A ZERO-SUM GAME

The mountains are tumbling,

the big bang is rumbling;
gravitation shall not hold,
the earth is deathlike, cold.

The elements are in disarray

the world is on the rack,
hopes have gone hiding
behind the wreckage of stars.

Is it the implosion of the sun,

an utter disintegration?
The planets explode
and fly above each other.

Who wins, who loses,

in this zero-sum game;
all consigned to flames.
 XXXV

THE LURID LIGHT

This brittle sound,

these sorties in air,
this din and roar,
these martial columns.

Crystal lake,
placid calm,
now, a boiling cauldron.

Chemical waste corrodes

the veins and arteries
of the earth-mother.

The smoking guns

fly past the coffins,
lay waste the Eden.

Snakelike hiss,
lurid light,
of the cemetery.

Gray sticky clouds

raise an iron shroud
around the dying sun.
 XXXVI

NAUSEA

Biogenic corruption corrodes

ants-like eating up a universe.
Nothing save the ashen gloom,
the earth denuded of its bloom.

Putrid smell of vegetation,

the stench of phosphorescence,
ghost-like permeation of gaseous poison.

Nausea invades my being,

no more the forest green
for me to laze in.
 XXXVII

THE BLASTED FUTURE

Bullet-ripped corpses,
legless, armless, bodies,
littered all over.
Utter blackout.

Wounded, maimed,
paraplegic, uncared,
shuffling about
for light,
in darkness.

Incapacitated for ever,

riveted to a wheel-chair,
artificially breathing,
intravenously fed.

The blasted future

jeering at
man’s bloated pride,
inching his way
to quick disposal.
 XXXVIII

THE CHARRED HEAVENS

Who caused these mutations

in the heart of elements,
the chemistry of heavens changed,
the face of the sun blackened?

The skin of space singed,

the heavens charred,
the earth-mother defaced.

Letting loose a million Hiroshimas,

unleashing leopards all over the space.
Who’s it clapping come with her noose
to squeeze life out of the cosmos?
 XXXIX

NO SUN, NONE!

This total blackout,

this blood-splattered gloom,
a prelude to closing-in of doom.

No flicker, no trace of life

in the heart of space;
only yellow clouds on the prowl.

Smog-enveloped sky,
nothing visible:
no sun, none!
 XL

MAN-MADE HELL

A hell here,
a hell there,
hell all around,
man-made hell.

By atom’s radiation
by nuclear waste,
by gaseous poison.
by fission’s chain reactions.

Hell of potash,
the kicking up of dust,
in sand dunes and rocks,
in deep seas and caverns.

Shelling and bombing,

the green belt,
prairies and stone-henges
pagodas and pyramids.
 XLI

A RAVING SEA
The locust floods
of mushrooming clouds
enveloping the outer space
encircle the earth and heaven.

Some contact leukemia,

some cancer.
The contagion afflicts the genes,
coursing down many a generation;
the poison percolating the primal fount.

No place immune
to the poison of radiation;
toxic soot covering the horizon,
screens the life-giving sun.

The sky hit by yellow cloud

becomes a raving sea
swallowing globes and galaxies,
the earth draped in a black shroud.

Swirling flames envelop the heavens;

a million tongues scorpions-like leap
all over the splintered space.
The planets fall one by one.

The earth by deadly blasts hit,

by fission and chain reactions,
sterility strikes the burning waste,
all consigned to deadly fate.

A million beasts of prey,

winging towards the ill-fated e-bay
in doomsday-like swoop
deface the earth-mother’s face.
 XLII

A NEW CROP

Why wars,
why spill innocent blood,
who wins
and at what cost?

Is God a global super-cop

whose writ runs on the weak,
who wields his baton on the meek,
who sides with the power-puffed proud?

Shall my restless soul

ever have respite
from the cannon fire,
blasts and holocausts—
after or before I fall asleep?

Shall the earth-mother ever conceive

a new crop of genomes,
the blasted womb ever deliver
another breed of homo sapiens?
 XLIII

THE FUTILITY

They fought for

their nation, their womenfolk,
their children, their empire,
their flag, their freedom.

But their dead sons

and the coffins brought home
speechlessly tell
the futility of it all.

Their twisted bones,

their battered limbs,
give a lie to their claims,
their alibis and no-win games.
 XLIV

A YEAR

A year of crises,
fire-fighting throughout,
five thousand years’ civilizations
decimated in a few hours
by marauders at large in uniform,
gulf burning still,
half-extinguished flames
mocking at the prospects of peace.

A year of defeat
for the brokers of peace,
conciliation taking a back seat,
war-mongers thriving everywhere.

A year of depression,
of ethnic strife,
of statist suppression
of people’s movements,
of betrayals and blackmails,
of diplomatic cant and deceit,
of coup d’etats and insurrections
disguised as revolutions.
 XLV

FLYING DOVES

The flying doves

flag off warheads;
hurl thunderbolts,
wrapped in love balloons,
on neighbours’ roofs.

Dismantle a wall,
dig afresh
trenches of hate,
lay mines
on sea and the ground
to launch an offensive,
to avenge the wrongs of history,
to redraw boundaries,
to retrieve what was lost
to a treacherous king
in days of yore.

Advance in defense,
clear the battle zones
of all marauders,
to negotiate peace
from a point of strength.

Distrust
who practise double-speak
from their forts of hate,
cheat the gullible folk
with pleas of peace.
 XLVI

Dagger-in-cloak solutions—
for enduring justice
for making the world safe
for everyone,
for removing the threats of WMD
by unilateral preemptive interventions.

Score conclusive victory,

with death of millions
in one swift strike,
to make the world free
for democracy.

Litter it with
broken limbs,
shattered hopes,
ruined lives,
maimed and dead
rotting in heaps—
their way!
 XLVII

THE SPLENDOUR

Uniforms in green,
shining armours,
blazing buttons,
march in step
to the tune of drummers.

Along the streets,

along the fields,
children throng
waving flags.

Amidst the cacophony of war,

death raining from above,
napalm clouds enveloping the skies,
screams for shelter rending the air,
shattered bodies littered all over.

The war-in-action,
ghastly, gruesome.

Doctors and nurses,

ambulances and trucks,
foot-sluggers and soldiers,
in sweltering summer,
in wintry cold,
round the clock,
in dirt and mud,
in snow and fog,
through the awful stench,
all on duty.
 XLVIII

They salvage the remains,

bury the dead
carry the wounded
prayer in their heart
tears in their eyes.

A singed heart
on atom-stained earth,
no caller,
no call.

How can you resurrect

a father blown to pieces,
a farmer caught in crossfire;
how can the earth’s splendour return?
 XLIX

THE LUMINOUS WEB

Patches have worn thin,

the sky wears holes
of the size of the earth,
the ozone layer is torn.

Chaos enters triumphant

growls to gulp down the earth,
swallow the sun,
reduce the sky in a shambles.

Who shall weave the luminous web,

who shall spin creations;
will the sun rise again,
will life revive on the earth?
 L

THE AFTERMATH

A time comes
when burying becomes a problem,
when there are countless dead
and no gravediggers.

Winter wind blows

making eerie sounds,
limbs frozen in grotesque shapes,
arms stiffened like the twisted twigs.

The earth a wounded snake

writhing in pain,
the smiling habitat turned
into a sepulchre.

What respect for the dead,

what funeral rites,
when the dead outnumber the living
in the aftermath of war?
 LI

BURNT-OUT PLANET

Lethal flowerbeds
nuclear shoots,
the cellars
bubbling forth poison.

Locust clouds enveloping the horizon,

the beaming planets sliding into black holes,
the chill blasts turn
vegetation into cinders.

Left--
the bent cows and goats,
one-eyed monsters and demons,.
stalking the burnt-out planet.
 LII

DAZED SLEEP

Every crimson sunrise

shows up stains of blood,
every war-growl
drinks up the very spring
whence flow the life-giving waters.

Every sigh stirs up

the memory of a lost son,
the warmth of family
frozen in the tracks.

In dread we sleep
in dread we wake up
to be lullabied
into a dazed sleep.

Now no lazing under a tree,

no carefree dip in flowing waters,
ever on the run
for a gasp of fresh air.
 LIII

WHITE BLOOD

The bloodstains
in the rainbow,
in the green and golden
the ultraviolet and crimson.

The blood turned white.

when I killed the son
and dropped death
on my kinsmen.

The culture dashed.

Won me the cross.

Many times I rolled up my sleeves

to eject death
on civilian habitats,
felled churches and hospitals.

A convict,
I enter a dark dungeon
where nightmares scream,
no respite, none.
 LIV

FRACTURED DREAMS

Dreams fractured,
all profession of peace belied,
I sleep in constant dread,
palm-pressing my battered head.

A part of me paralyzed,
I slump into my shroud
force-fed by the other half
to stay alive.

Light breaks out

from the shrapnel gloom
and I slog through mire
in search of elixir.

How empty sound

the vows of peace,
after every war
how hollow the victory claims!

The earth mined,

no spot for a sapling of peace,
the stench sickening;
all dreams down the drain.
 LV

WAR'S DELUGE

The monuments of excellence, .

the relics of a civilization’s crown—
the pagodas, the pyramids,
the towers and trade centers
washed away
by war's deluge.

Shrieks
in a burning hell let loose,
combustible fires
raging infernally,
mouthing fear, hate and ire.

I feel a wrench
at the very thought of war.

Orphaned, widowed,
children struck dumb,
the mother motionless,
the dead son in her lap;
the all-enveloping smog
tightening the noose.

Not a sigh or a stir

in the wintry vast.
 LVI

MY MURDERER'S FACE

Hurrying to the holes

to breathe poison-free air,
away from the stench
of dead bodies littered all over
with vultures hovering above,
the smog clouds swirling and curling up.

I scream for succour,

amidst the debris I look for a crown;
with every cannon burst
a cathedral tumbles down.

Among the rubble

the countless stars,
that once twinkled
and cheered,
in blind stare
mock and shock.

In their speechless eyes

I see my barbarity,
my murderer's face.
 LVII

THE INVISIBLE JURY

My shadow is growing larger,
its umbilical cord is becoming invisible
and it is seen walking with giant steps
encompassing the earth and heaven.

I watch it merge into a life-cloud,

sink into the Milky Way.

A giant fish, leaping up and down,

collides against the rim of a fleet
on an espionage mission.

Writing my name in darkness

in lettering of fire,
the idea crosses my mind -
my moment has come.

I close my eyes to pray.

Suddenly, lifted by a tide,
I become part of the longest current
sweeping across the waters.

I feel I am on some other planet,

transported by a light beam.

From within the life-cloud

someone appears on the screen.

Jutting out from a crystal ball,

making ‘V’ sign pointing north,
suddenly I fall into a spell,
my shadow confronts me with a grin:
“Are you the one who have devastated
the land and the sea,
spread pollution everywhere
making the planet uninhabitable?”
 LVIII

I feel the poison enter my being—

my throat choked,
my voice lost,
my sight blurred.

“See this ethereal, exquisitely wrought,

silken layer of ozone
showing up patches here and there
larger than the size of the Atlantic Ocean.
Aren’t you the one who punctured it?”

The verve of the tone is electrifying.

The accumulated guilt of all my sins

rises up in my fevered brain,
a heavy load weighs me down,
I feel utterly down and out.

Other shadowy figures join in

pointing their bayonets at me.

“O God! I am ruined”, I say to myself.

Then from the jury someone thunders:

“Aren’t you who enacted Cheronobyl and Bhopal?
How long have you been in this life-killing trade,
making poisonous gases for chemical war,
exploding the atom and the nuclei
to unleash annihilation on earth
and the outer space,
to efface life from the cosmic womb?

“The scroll of your crimes is too long.

Punishment for each one of them
is eternal damnation”, the jury thunders.

The nightmarish shadows swirl in my brain

and I taste the hellish pain.
 LIX

I carry a time-bomb tied to my waist,

feel like pushing the button
to outwit the insistent inquisition
but the fear of instant death restrains me.

I picture doomsday
staring at me.
My whole cerebral mechanism,
unable to bear the load,
breaks down.

I suffer brain hemorrhage,

go into a coma,
but they will not let me die;
in an instant they revive.

Again I am before the jury,

dumbfounded,
pleading guilty, unable to defend.

A knock at the door

wakes me up
from my nocturnal session
with the invisible jury.
 LX

ERUPTING VOLCANO

Screaming wasps
shooting poisonous strings
with computer precision
make me swirl up
like the erupting volcano.

No bay safe for passage,

no strip for landing,
no field for take-off,
no place for a haven.

The dove, affrighted,

sits behind the wreckage;
every jungle on fire,
every gulf in flames.

No rainbowed visions,
no earthly blooms,
no ocean orchids
all springs polluted.

In the debris lie

splinters of my dream.
 LXI

A FROZEN MOMENT

Every time I sip my sadness,

it sticks in my throat;
my stare gets cranky
and I look like a jinn
unloosening the lid.

Am I the same
after my home shelled,
my son killed by blast,
my father shot?

No hand to caress,
none there to repair the rot,
none to wipe out the scars;
no count of the dead
in the debris of starts.

With freckled flag

where to go,
all roads mined
and the fuse ready to go off!

Nothing before or after.

A frozen moment
have I become
awaiting the fall of a hammer.
 LXII

DYING MAN’S DECLARATION

No more shall I wait.

All around
the desert closing in.

No gesture, no word,
bayonets break into
my eyes.

My prismatic body
can no more withstand
the chemical combustion.

What these changes

in the ecosystem
the holes, ozone-layer-like,
in my skinny coat.

I am bleached,
asphyxiated;
dumb, I write
the dying man’s declaration.
 LXIII

WAILING BANGLES

The sight
of the maimed and dead
brought home
amidst the beating of drums.

The shrieks
of babes and women,
of wailing bangles—
the sobs of vermilioned earth.

With every sip of sadness,

I drink ale and blood
and suffer for my part of the sin
how I dragged down the heaven.

Pierced by pricks,
I can no more sleep;
my timid self is gnawed
by grievous guilt.

Too close,
yet too far,
to the solution:
a convict
counting my crimes
in a lone cell;
a senile,
waiting for the call.
 LXIV

NUCLEAR WINTER

The fire that burns within

moves my heart to sing
a song of peace
for the war-ravaged world.

Only a barren soul

dead to human suffering,
to ugliness all around,
can retain its calm.

What avail these inventions

that fail to stop emissions of poison,
deadly gases that overflow
making holes in the ozonic roof?

What will happen to the sun,

to life on this imperilled earth,
who will be there for the dead to mourn
if nuclear winter is let in?
 LXV

A FROZEN SKY

No more can I bear

this drama of mortal strife
blasts and explosions
this burning amphitheatre on wheels.

Mother-earth forbids me
to destroy the clock
and revert to the olden time
when we lived from moment to moment.

This MAD Syndrome,

this cut-throat competition,
this balance of terror,
if not rolled back, shall spell annihilation.

Constant upsetting of eco-balance,

the ceaseless churning out of gaseous poisons
posing danger to all life on this planet
polluting the very spring of life.

The scenario of a frozen sky:

birds paralyzed in one stroke,
animal kingdom struck blind,
all Nature gone deaf and dumb.

The planetary tabernacle stopping in midair,

moon and stars in space transfixed,
utter blackout amidst doomsday flames,
no sphere swinging to complete a revolution,

All strike-force immobilized on the ground,

loaded guns and missiles unexploded,
all weapons of mass destruction.
No war fought, no war won.
 LXVI

SHREDDED GLORY

When all is over,

the curtain rung down,
who a hero,
who a villain?
Varnish-washed,
all look the same.

The chips down,

the suspense-crammed play
turns into a bland narrative.

The defended flag

of a bygone tribe
is consigned
to the museum.

Every new empire

is reared on the shredded glory
of a power-drunk war-lord.
 LXVII

HOW LONG?

Bled, we bleed
burnt, we burn,
shot, we shoot
friends and foes alike.

Stoke racial fire,

cultural cauldron,
ethnic strife,
national wars,
one after the other.

How long these shibboleths,

these political gimmicks,
these cloak-dagger skull rites?
 LXVIII

TREATIES

All treaties,
a piece of paper
to be torn
sooner rather than later.

How can peace prevail

when insanity rules the roost,
mutual trust takes a back seat,
betrayals become the rule?

Raise walls and more walls,

barricades and bastions
of dragon fears and hate.

Love is the alchemy

to turn
war into peace.
 LXIX

FREEDOM’S FLAG

Peace has fled,

love taken wings,
only hate rules the roost.
Where to find one’s calm?

Where to find a heart

that melts at other’s suffering;
a soul that embraces all,
who bears the stab of racial strife?
.
When shall the trauma of war
give place to order of peace,
world rid of hate and fear?

When shall freedom’s flag unfurl

over land and sea
and all walls break
for man to be free?
 LXX

EVER DEEPENING CRISIS

Every twenty five years

one more India joins the globe—
a big slum.

Ever deepening crisis of governance

each one’s destiny existentially ordained
in a Hobbesian world of predatory competition.

Feet burning with heat of mass consumerism,

the planet bending backward
under overload of exploding population.

The cosmic explosion of expectation,

the whole earth deficient to meet
even one man’s consumerist greed.

The modern day leaders Nero-like fiddling

with people caught in communal crossfire,
the planet smoldering at both ends.

No more that green eco-mystical way,

a life of sharing, a reverence for life,
a growing concern for millions.

Tribal habitat to the global village,

dingy dark hovels to electronic-fitted cottages—
between them is the oligopoly ever in deep crisis.

Only a seer’s wisdom can avert and diffuse

the ticking bomb of population explosion
thermonuclear and ecological doom.
 LXXI

EMBER DAWN

Every dawn
buried in a trench,
every mind benumbed
by the shock.

The deathless spirit smiles

in all-enveloping night,
holds its head high
in nihilism and despair.

Never lets die

the ember of hope
even on the cross.
Wear the martyr’s crown.
 LXXII

EVERY MOTHER

Every mother prays for

long life of her son,
his well-being, his blossoming.

Wants peace
that her children sing
peace carols and psalms,
the anthems of creation.

Affluent or indigent,
stern or indulgent,
every mother wants this;
yes, every mother.

She wants peace,

for sure, peace;
no war, not even a scuffle.

Let mother show the way

when mankind has strayed away.
 LXXIII

THE PRECIPICE
My brother stands before me
ready to kill.

To embrace the stab of hate

and be killed
or to dismount his proud head,
in a fix I press the button.

The chaos let loose,

the bloodhounds set free
upon the children of one mother
who shared bread and broth in one kitchen,
basked in the fire of same hearth,
slept under the same roof
and played hide-and-seek.

How to retrace from the precipice,

headlong fall.

Mother is lacerated by each wound

her children inflict upon one another.
The irreparable loss is hers,
the tragedy and suffering is hers.
Never to her shall it be the same again.

Spreading her cloth, she wails:

Come home my children, come,
there are forces who will not let us live,
they have planted bombs all over my bosom.
I can bear the shock of their explosion
but not of another forty-seven.

Please throw away this gun,

spare your brethren, of the same womb.
I pray for long life of all children,
may peace on earth prevail.
 LXXIV

BROWN BREAD

To every toiling today and tomorrow

I owe my little joy and sorrow.
In my big and little plans
my priority is common man
in the eternal now of the earth,
not in prenatal real or imagined birth.

Immersed in work-a-day world,

I have no regard for otherworldly things,
neither the treasures of heaven
nor the terrors of hell.

Mine is a loving, fulfilling world

where love and friendship clasp no shadows,
where everyone strives for forging a brotherhood
and a world sans weapons of mass destruction.

Neither through divine intervention,

nor promise of a kingdom of heaven,
but by honest toil in service of fellowmen,
mankind shall be saved from hunger and want.
 LXXV

AWAKENED PEOPLE

When the people are awakened,

no tyranny can put them down,
bare-chested they confront the tanks
and brave the mightiest tyranny.

Undeterred they march on and on

paving the way to liberation,
overthrowing all oppression,
terminating all human suffering.

They sow the seed of life everlasting,

foster the order of universal well-being,
bind all human beings in fraternal bonds,
a war free world on love’s foundations to raise.

Chanting songs of happy cheer

they send peace-balloons in the air,
with warm hands and noble intent
they free even the last man from fretting fear.
 LXXVI

A TRUSTED MARINER

Without change
life's stagnation sits,
wooden chair becomes the torture tool.

Stone walls enclosures

manacle life’s acres,
no grass is green on hedges.

The world’s toughest yacht race, this life,

different crews but same are the boats
racing against all prevailing currents.

The only professional on the ship,

by opposing pulls assailed
in the tidal crossfire is caught.

Learning from each bit of mistake

one becomes a trusted mariner,
the mentor of rebellious seas.
 LXXVII

NUCLEAR FIRE

Civilizations rise and fall,

tombs and catacombs,
ideologies sabotaged,
betrayed and bankrupted.

There goes to debris

the house of Soviets,
towers and minarets,
hoary and hallowed.

The only light that stands out

in pitch-dark
is of nuclear fire,
terrific in its overkill.

No leader, no prophet,
amidst the reigning chaos,
yet we wait for the saviour to come
with a secret remote close to his chest.

In our dreary desert

long for a whiff of fragrance,
a song to cheer,
a refreshing shower of grace.
 LXXVIII

SUN-GAZER

Electrons on the run,

mountains crumbling,
oceans tumbling
—a dance of dissolution.

Dark clouds vanishing

in depths of desolation,
dreams dissolving
in passivity’s night.

Shadows close by
enfolding eternities,
I stand my ground
gazing at the sun.
 LXXIX

ANGUISHED CRY
O Lord,
save me from nuclear blast,
blisters of radiation,
yellow smoke of explosion.

Tired of annexing territories and crowns,

signing death warrants of near and dear ones,
setting free the hounds of mad ambition,
I have reached the end of the tether.

I don’t want to die in the cannon fire,

in the cacophony of bomb explosions,
nor live in rat holes of nightmarish fears,
the thought of day after make my heart sink.

Save me from holocaust,

from nuclear fallout,
from ravages of radiation
from thermonuclear blast.

Lead me out of this horrid night;

usher me into the dawn of freedom,
the tides are rising full,
draw me out of the whirls.

Awake me into awareness

of ongoing wholeness—
the organic continuum
of various orders of creation.

Bless the earth

with a new dawn,
of freshening intelligence
nurturing springs.

Cleanse the dark ravines

to revive
beauty and harmony,
the life-affirming vision.
 LXXX

COLLECTIVE HOMICIDE

Afloat on a sprawling sea,

burning and churning,
smoldering and smelting,
the rugged earth.

In multi-millennia
navigating through sea routes and continents,
conquering and killing the natives,
colonizing, building empires.

In the name of Allah the merciful,

Christ the lord of love,
Jehovah the stern justiciar of a mighty race,
connecting black and marmara sea.

I have survived time’s mutation,

history’s upheavals, its vicissitudes,
flowed in the dreams of multitudes
like the sounding bells of dawn.

A witness to Byzantine glory,

Roman brilliance, Ottoman opulence,
the hordes of marauders coming
from barbarian habitations.

Always bubbling with mighty turbulence,

unfurling the ensigns of victory
on the minarets and prickly domes,
every time raising, new cathedrals of renown.

Torched in the next moment

into rubble, melted concrete and Iron,
from the towering eminence
mocking at the Creator.
 LXXXI

Still hoping for a new dispensation,

shall that come and be lasting,
how much more destruction
no one knows!

No end to popes and priests,

dupes of an ingenious goddess
whose tentacles surround the earth
mushrooming altars of sects and creeds.

Truth lost in the parochial darkness of faith,

worshiping unknowable abstractions,
oblivious of the pressing concerns of fellowmen,
go about raising altars to goddess of fear and hate.

Hypnotizing its soul-killing hold

sending many a people
to the theatre of war
drugged by one or the other abstraction.

Religion, race, tribe, nation,

language, caste, kinship, region—
the sub-national identities raked up
by the ingenuity of a conditioned brain.

Sunk in the mire of unreason,

worshiping the id-generated gods,
luring people into their bloodstained altars
for collective homicide.

Obdurate in its intransigence,

repetitive in its pattern of occurrence,
learning nothing from the inherited wrongs
or the fatal sins of forefathers.

Forcing and coaxing to sacrifice

the finest flower of youth
to safeguard the glory of a stone,
or avenge an imagined wrong.
 LXXXII

Puffed by artificial pride,

of narrow sectarian slogans,
they go on a killing spree
claiming foreign territories.

Raise armies to extend their dominion,

to get back a piece of land annexed
by the precursors of the present regime,
any excuse sufficient to support a fight.

Waxing full the national frenzy

before unleashing a crusade,
a war to the finish,
be it Vietnam, Iraq, Gulf or Afghanistan.

Everyone dies a martyr

in the name of saving his religion or nation.
No concern for the earth-mother
whose children are we all.

When shall this consciousness dawn,

O Lord,
when?
 LXXXIII

THE POET

When man walks erect,

casts no shadow,
he is hallowed.

Colonialism gone,
statist communism gone,
but tyrannies appear in new avatars.

Revolution abides,
though broken and shattered;
man’s resolve outlasts dissolution.

When everyone sleeps,

the poet is
forging words.

To rouse,
to bring forth
a race of warriors.

A new man,
a new order,
a new language.

Invites everyone
to join the congregation,
of love and brotherhood.
 LXXXIV

SADIST MAESTRO
How long will you treat
man as a beast, O priest?

Hasn’t man made

gigantic cathedrals and pyramids,
star-set space-stations and satellites
to navigate the cosmic seas?

Unravel the mysterious skein,

divine conception and design,
trinity and God’s plan,
man’s redemption and restoration!

The paradise he fell from,

its luster, its brilliance,
his divinity, his grandeur,
the envy of gods.

When shall the kingdom return,

how long a wait, how long, O priest?
Stop drugging man with soul-killing poison,
no more dopes, no more delusions.

Let him be a free man

with no altar for worship,
his head bloody but unbowed
before any tyrant god:

The creator, perpetuator

of this iniquitous world,
a chimera born of man’s frenzied brain,
the sadist maestro of the zero-sum game.

Let man work out his own salvation,

freeing himself from all parochial darkness,
dismantling Berlin walls and iron curtains,
eliminating all weapons of mass destruction.

Only love, compassion and service

will bring his release.
 LXXXV

MAN

Unfed, unclothed,
unhoused, uncared,
he moves unseen,
unwanted, unloved.

The real man,

to him belongs the earth;
his home,
the whole universe.

Prior to Popes, prior to Churches,

prior to crucifix-tasting-man,
prior to kings and emperors,
prior to conquerors, battle-worn.

On his bones has risen

sky-kissing towers of civilization
every pyramid of ambition,
every dome of revelation.

Unseen, he is always there,

unsettling every plan,
occupying the centre-stage
with floodlights on.
 LXXXVI

THE SAME ESSENCE

Everywhere the same sky,
same patch of land,
same sun to bask in,
same moon to dally with.

Same in America, same in Europe,

same in Asia, same in Far East,
same in Africa, same in Japan,
the same water encircling the earth.

Go anywhere, eastward or westward,

you will meet the same people:
same affections, same passions,
same festivities, same feasts.

Skin-colour may vary,

the blood in veins is the same,
same alternation of moon cycles,
same lunar rhythm in every being.

Same upswing of high tide,

fall and swell of waves,
passion to kiss the moon
magic crop in full bloom.

Same nostalgia
to go a-fishing in the night sky,
same wonder catch
once in a blue moon.

Splashing of moonbeams,
dulcet lilt of wafting breeze,
heart-throb of primal harmony
from spheres set in cosmic scale.

Behind man’s moods and seasons,

high and dry, cloudy and clear,
sweet and bitter, of every flavour,
same pattern, same rhythm occurring unawares.
 LXXXVII

THE ORDAINED MISSION

(i)
Walls break,
peoples hug,
Germanies unite,
there is light.

Amidst gongs and bells,

new world is born.

A new Europe rolls down

the escalator of time.

(ii)
Ringing with cries of freedom,
prestroika unfurls in the sky,
glasnost breaks the union.

A new confederation takes off

to join the older choir,
new priests are anointed.

(iii)
Bishops sit in circle,
kiss crosses one by one,
blood and flesh a real feast.

No heretic nailed,
no prince crucified,
no one killed in fake encounters.

State is on the alert

to let no assassin
go scot free.
 LXXXVIII

(iv)
With no regret or remorse
I walk out of the prison
after a twenty-seven-year spell.

I am my future
held in chains
yet a beacon to my men,
the Mandela to my generations.

I fix my gaze on my son

dispatched to the guillotine,
I burn red with rage
struggling to break open the cage.

No sacrifice is too dear

to break asunder human chains,
that my fellowmen be free
from the accursed slavery.
 LXXXIX

BONE –WEAPONS

The anger of a whole generation

frozen in my bruised bones,
slogan-weary, action I want.

With my bones I forge weapons

to continue the fight
for the wretched of the earth.

Despite a choking in my throat,

not content till I wipe every stain
from the face of the earth.

I wake up in a new dawn,

join the historic march
to overthrow tyrants and empires.

Hail freedom’s birth;

herald for everyone,
O ye, bard for the crestfallen.
 XC

ROLL IT GREEN

Beyond the barbed wire

is the luscious green;
who dares jump over the wall
shall get an electric shock.

Gone the barbed wire,

torn the iron curtain,
dismantled the concrete wall,
all meet in a warm embrace.

The children of one earth,

sharing a common hearth,
flowing from the same source,
set on a historic course.

The grassy green around,

bustling with merry sound,
is the heritage of all;
indivisible.

The wall that stands in-between

shall not be.
We will roll it green
this summer.

The earth is one,

the universe one,
the eco-system one,
all life one.
 XCI

COSMIC RED

No walls separate us,

no chasm yawns,
nothing stands in-between
the mother and her sons.

Red is the colour

of every son’s blood,
of the killer and the killed,
the mother weeps for both.

When “isms” contend and explode,

the blood that flows
is cosmic red,
the same at birth and death.

Same the ale and bread,

same the flavour,
same the stench,
even remains the same.
 XCII

BEYOND RECOGNITION

How cloying
the deeds sung by bards,
the blood-curdling exploits
of heroes slain in war.

How empty it sounds,

“a hundred died in one round.”
Headless, in heaps they lie
battered beyond recognition.

What for?
To satisfy the whim of a war-lord,
to annex a mound
where not a blade of grass grows.

Not to vanquish the evil

that lurks in human breast,
not to slay the monster
that tears asunder our calm!

Why add to senseless strife?

Why swell the ranks of Satan’s tribe?
Why not raise our arms to the One
who shall order our redemption?
 XCIII

LIFE-SWALLOWS

O Lord of the sea,

give me your fury,
your roaring clarion,
that the tyrants quake.

Blow into my soul

the breath of your vision
that I embrace multitudes
in my vast outspread.

Burn away, dear,

every doubt, every fear;
that I be scourge to every predator
every power-drunk war-monger.

Bury beneath the timeless sand

your every grievous wound,
to let grow a million springs abloom
that life-swallows chirp and sing.
 XCIV

A MISSION TO REDEEM

Why put restriction on import

of immortal love songs?
Why restrain fancy’s flight,
why screen away the light?

Why not let winds freely

pass before your door,
wherefore your windows close?
Let the sun come in.

Your whole future is at stake,

let new thoughts come straddling along
plotting a putsch at every iron wall
let the ensign of freedom unfurl.

Why be afraid of a whirlwind

agonizing trials and tribulations?
Nothing can shake your roots
embedded in deep solid earth.

Your goal, well-being of all,

Not merely of one people,
your glasnost and prestroika
embrace the whole world.

Freedom for every man,

the earth as one family,
your vision at the civilization’s dawn.
The oldest sage was your father.

The world calls you again

to come out of your narrow shell
and speak of abiding concerns
for the entire human race.
 XCV

You are the most enlightened seer,

philosophy you have lived and died for—
the truth common to all religions,
above the din of dissension.

You have nurtured the dream

of a unified cosmic consciousness
irrespective of race or nation:
peace to all men, peace to all habitations.

You have flown kites in the open sky,

moved in unwalled space,
envisioned an order-will
cutting across frontiers.

Unappeased your appetite for all good things,

every peacock your prosperity sings,
you are friend to every man
fired with a mission to redeem.
 XCVI

SON OF GANGA

Born in penury,
in adversity rocked,
in seismic upheavals flown
on the raft of flesh and bone.

Go over the seven seas

forging bonds of love,
with poets from many lands
in earth-consciousness bound.

Musing on the river Cam,

cruising on the Rhine,
flowing verses to Yangtze,
son of Ganga goes to meet his brothers.

From Paris to Rome,

Beijing to Taipei,
Bangkok to Tripoli,
Kansas to Cambridge.

Create confraternity of poets,

the legislators of mankind
to usher in
the citizenship of the earth.
 XCVII

CONFLUENCE

I bequeath to you, my child,

the pride of being born
in this hoary land
of man’s first spring.

Here sages sang

the first hymns to light,
and the Ganga of civilization
came down from heaven itself.

Here thronged from many lands

streams and rivers to a confluence
of cultures and beliefs
greening the earth with universal love.

Pillaged by marauders,
laid waste by bandits,
from the ashen gloom you arise,
unvanquished.

Beneath the silt of time

flows the Ganga sublime
with psalms and hymns
of a hoary civilization.

The enduring remains

of her sacrificing sons,
the inheritors of halcyon past.
keep her soil forever green.
 XCVIII

THE GLOBAL VILLAGE?

Internet has come,

the world has shrunk,
are we in the global village?

No more the neighbourhood,

no more the sharing brotherhood,
no more the bond of affection and duty.

Gone the carefree community life,

of sitting round the fire
in wintry nights.

No more spinning
of fortune’s change,
no telling beads of stars.
 XCIX

FULFILLMENT

How fulfilling
longing for more love,
dreaming of new dawns,
hoping for new shoots.

Relax the choking grip on throat

to release the captive voice,
let no scorpion fear gnaw your soul;
happiness is consummation of the whole,

Not of a part, of body, or of mind,

not of one people, but the whole mankind,
not of one region, but the entire earth;
for in common filaments is bound all life.
 C

EARTH-CITIZEN

Nationalism broken,
ethnicity triumphant,
terror on the leash!

Whereto are we heading,

backward or forward,
one world or tribal herd?

The earth-citizen!

When shall he come

to be baptized?
 CI

EARTH-CITIZENRY

A field it was
of waving hands,
of rhythmic steps,
of a slow-moving dance.

Yellow and red,

black and brown,
white and bright,
every colour and shade.

The whole choir sang,

in bliss of harmony,
serenading to
the earth-citizenry.
 CII

I SALUTE THEM ALL

Mines all over the earth,

no safety cover over my roof,
sky’s blanket wears many holes.

Tortoise – like I withdraw

into my bunker shell,
anxiously wait for it to get clear.

Suddenly the bottom of the ocean

is ripped open
shooting up tempestuous whirls.

Lightning thunder breaks

ribs of mountains,
hurricanoes wreak havoc.

God of doom is seen

closing in the noose
around the gasping earth.

Horror-struck I watch
the doomsday dance
in the tunnel of gloom.

Some monster – blizzard

bashes the earth-mother Devki-like
plucking her hair.

Mother’s chest is flung open

by deluge of mineralled flares,
by thunder-wielding cyclones.

In one hoary aeon

a boar had release her
from the clutches of a mighty demon,
had pulled her out from bottomless deep.
 CIII

Where are mighty heroes

like Bhagiratha, the bringer of holy waters
from the inaccessible glens of heaven.

Now no Agastya, the ocean-drinking sage,

no Dadhichi, the bones-weapons-forging seer,
no nachiketa, the knower of death’s mystery.

I salute them all,

the heroes cast in martyrs mould,
glorious their scroll of deeds.
 CIV

CAN A POET DIE AT ALL?

Who is there philosophizing

atop the hoary hill:
The earth is dying,
the sun is dying.

Aren’t these sheer lies?

Can a poet die at all?
Isn’t he the same
before and after the fall?

Why beat the self-same drum,

worn out by diurnal dum dum,
no more can it bear the strain,
constant tapping shall affect the brain.

The capsule that I bury this day,

the truthful record of an ill-fated play,
the climax and denouement of epic dimension
caused by a fatal flaw in psyche of man.

At the same spot I shall bury

the living and dying profile of the sun,
the blue-print of a new civilization
yet to arise on ruins of the existing one.
 CV

© GANDHI EARTH VISION FOUNDATION

First Published 2004

Price : Rs. 150/- ($30)

ISBN NO. : 81-88871-02-8

Written by Madan G. Gandhi

Published by:
Gandhi Earth Vision Foundation
H-23/16 DLF Phase-I
Gurgaon-122002.
Haryana (India)
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