Tangled, in thorns, deep, down her skin
Behold her, scrumptious flesh, that squirms
Hilsa, bares to bone, Bangladesh’s chagrin
A future, paved with fear, fanatic faith, reaffirms!
Severed from, a state, but not, its faith
Its wounded ethos, bleeds, on Dhaka’s streets
In 50 years, what has changed, in this wraith
Beyond, political wins, and, ethnic defeats!
Amidst, a failed nation’s, dying institutions
New breed, of Salafis, wage a, million jihads
Whilst, two widows, flirt, with pretensions
In a game, of faith, and fear’s, façades!
Lo and behold! An inertia, growing old
Hope’s dream, souring to, heist of hate
Whose future, is enslaved, in past’s stranglehold
How To Celebrate, That, Schizophrenic State!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra