Displaced Person

A gingerly scream soars from the slums.

A volatile wind flashed through them.

Melancholic lives of ‘Rohingyan Muslims’

Scribbled on the walls of the slum.

A flummoxing smack in valleys of ‘Quds’,

Keening rockets and screaming ambulances,

The evidence of abhorrent behaviour of ‘Yehudis’

Dispersed in their ephemeral silences.

There is a hustle in ‘Train to Pakistan'

The catastrophic memories of despair and partition.

What is the misfortune of Muslims in ‘Hindustan’?

And how many years will it take for their emancipation?

The bruised hearts are walking through the boulevard.

Is this the destiny of these plebeians?

Exploding toys in the hands of children in the house yard,

And a lightning candle in fists of ‘Iranians’.