Don’t be born my child…

Don’t be born my child,

Know, with what

The face of the earth

Is waiting for you

No light would be spread,

No smile would be unfurled,

Listen for a time when you feel

The sound of explosion as music

Here would not be calm and quiet

Unrest would rule the roost

Remember, you will have to learn

The lessons of unexpectedness

Ensure you will not burn even in fire

Explosions could occur any time

You will have to do a tight ropewalk

Over the bridge of thread

Sun will not rise up,

Men will not wake up

First sight each morning

Would be of dead bodies

Stoves will not be lit up

Bellies will not be filled up

Still, the air will be engulfed

With black smoke, don’t suffocate

Man and man will not

Get along with each other,

Blood will flow like rivers,

Save yourself from drowning

No dolls or toys to play

You will have to put up

Your life amongst

The guns and bombs

You will not find any faces,

Expect only masks

Everybody will keep knives

Watch out for yourself

No tears or sympathies left

The beauty of the earth

Will become barren

Try not to be sad

No kindness in the hearts

Not a drop of water will be left

Even in the womb of the sea of love

Don’t be desperate

There is not a better place for you

Than the womb of your mother

You know my child,

You know…

Don’t be born my child,

Know, with what

The face of the earth

Is waiting for you.

By Ismail Meladi

Blood Episode

You may wash your face

With my blood

At least thus,

Let your mask

Which is stuck for long,

Break away

You may drink

My whole blood

At least thus,

Let your inner heart,

Which is dirty with stains,

Be washed clean

My blood may not be enough

To wash all your hands

And clean all your thoughts

Still, take this blood blithely

Shed my blood ruthlessly

If you need it to cool your

Boiling eyes or to make it up

At least thus,

Let the filthy cloud, formed

And getting debased in your eyes,

Be moved away.

By Ismail Meladi

Green Dream

Oh my small baby that sleeps

Enjoying the warmth of my chest

You too see the tree that I saw

You too see the flowery branches,

The spring that blooms the flowers,

The shades and the contentment

But, see not the trees burning

Oh dear, see the green leaves

And the dews that cool them

See the shyness of the grass tip

That blossoms self-immersed

But, see not the leaves charring

Oh my kid, see the land

See the moon grass on it

And the lotus bloomed in mud

That mirrors its face on moon

The embarrassment on its face

See them all eyes wide open

See not the barrenness spreading

Oh my young child, walk further

Listen to pure charming music

Surprise unfurls on the creepers

That crawled up on the fence

See the first rays of sun caress

The reed bushes after reaching

Like the snakes move around

In the reed bushes that became

A worship place for the villagers

Where the ancient hymns rise

Awake from the nap the reeds

Will hum the morning rhythm

Lend ears to this, not explosions

Take a stroll or two across the fields

The stems of paddy plants

Will play melodies for you

Flowery plants on the shores

Will call you with their hands

Rhythmically and the streams

Will sing sweet tunes for that

Smell not the discharging blood

With a sea of tears and folded hands

I beg your pardon my little child

Sitting even in this concrete jungle

I whisper in your ears green garden

At least, let a green dream unfold

In your deep and comfortable sleep

Let you not be hurt at least inside.

By Ismail Meladi

Precarious Thoughts

Precarious Thoughts

My soul trims down and

Becomes a single thread

By pecking and plucking

Words separate the tangles

On the much sharpened edge

Between meaning and inanity

Between sense and inner sense

At precarious moments

Swings and sways the thoughts

If that peels off and drops down

The fall will shake up this universe

Thoughts drenched in the downpour

On earth have been swollen and heavy

An oil lamp on the veranda of the soul

And the oil that is being burnt up in it

Invigorate and enliven the flames

On the stage that is dimmed up with

Flimsy flames and cold breeze.

By Ismail Meladi

Accident

Split the moment into hundred

And take one among them

Build a bridge across the life,

Slimmer than the hair

That is divided into hundred

Place a needle on top of it,

Of coincidence, unexpectedness,

Of impuissance, selfishness, or

Of anything…

And now,

The fate would be arriving

As an uninvited guest

It would perform a dance

On the edge of the needle

Not just a dance,

A dance of devastation,

And the destruction

Would be occurring

Underneath the bridge

It will become topsy-turvy

The least expected would be

A huge displacement of things.

By Ismail Meladi

Mutilated word

Life is a set of

Mutilated words

The words of life

That have lost order

Needs a symphony

Of solace on flute

To weld them up

In the fire of love

But, here, they are so disfigured

That it is difficult to distinguish

Between vowels and consonants

The words have lost

Their lines and curves

But, lots of dots remain

And the dots grow bigger and bigger

And metamorphose into

Huge circles and deep gorges

Now everything is confined

In a ‘O’ circle

But, ‘O’ was not the first letter born

The letters that did not melt in fire

Have corroded in the soil

By Ismail Meladi

Wall

Wall

I placed the first brick
and you the second,
no place is left on earth!
So what?
Don't we have the right
over open space too
I put the third brick
you put the fourth one
and the bricks proliferate!
Now it is difficult to say
which is bigger--space or brick
no space is left on this earth
to place any more bricks
let me place it within your heart
and you reciprocate!
And the waves of love
will cease to caress
the banks of our hearts,
for the heightening walls ensure
that these waves can never cross them!

By Ismail Meladi