Green Signal


green signal

A green carpet spread beneath my feet,
and a sepulchral dome of blue above…
I stood pondering over our equation with nature
and everything that fills her treasure trove.

The benevolent mother of greedy billions…
The silent surveyor of each and every sin.
Pain and agony fill her every single breath,
as she is mercilessly exploited by her kin.

Her omniscience is as impeccable as ever,
she knows the consequences we are destined to face.
She pities our nonchalance and ignorance,
as we foolishly tamper with her dignity and grace.

With a sobbing heart, she ceaselessly grieves,
as her veins are poisoned by what our factories spit.
But a shameless humanity mocks and molests her,
and behaves with her as it deems fit.

Our ruthless attacks have left their scars,
in the crown of ozone that adorns her head.
And though she seals her lips with vast tolerance,
we mindlessly spray her face with mercury and lead.

She knows she is foolish to harbour such fiends,
but she cannot bear to see them languish.
And so she suffers so that we may prosper,
and never ever voices her wails of anguish.

But when we meddle in matters not meant for us
and treat His greatest creation with little care…
It’s impossible to escape the noose of justice,
and future will strip these sins of past bare.

She knows it now, as she knew it then –
and being a mother has warned us as well.
Each tsunami, earthquake or a lava eruption,
is a mere snapshot of what lies in store in hell.

Yet we contemptuously dismiss these warnings,
to continue our imperious march to global havoc.
Extinction will soon be staring at our faces,
as death and destruction are bound to run amok.

This ailing planet is on critical life support,
and our insipid response has left it aghast.
It is begging us to take the green turn soon,
Lest the obdurate wheels of time run past.

Nature’s coffers are slowly but surely drying,
from our reckless use over all these years.
And a mother groans in stifled despair, searching
amongst her children for sympathetic ears.


NISHANK MEHTA  |  29.09.2008

The Price They Paid


the price they paid

This is the story of a village –
and its happy, unassuming townsfolk.
Bathed in nature’s choicest bestowing,
They diligently worked up their yoke.

They lived as one large family,
and battled difficulties in consort.
They loved love and hated hate,
and fight was an unused resort.

They lived simply, but with utmost joy,
No envy, no suspicions in their breasts.
Evil was vestigial in their lexicon,
And they joyously reaped their ripe harvests.

When rain poured, they danced with gusto,
When the sun shone, they basked without a worry.
For them, life was a comfortable breeze,
and not a hot oven that baked in a hurry.

Their spotless minds neither knew nor cared,
about the chaotic lives of their urban counterparts.
All they were concerned with was their paradise,
And, they cherished its splendor in their spacious hearts.

But then…its a cruel, cruel world,
And gaiety is almost a punishable crime.
And so swooped in the vultures from cities,
To inject a twist in our rhyme.

The bulls had roared, and moolah had soared,
and the business guns had gone kaboom!
Not satiated with cementing the cities,
They flocked to this village to seal its doom.

Verbal poisons were poured in those innocent ears,
And money was exchanged between filthy hands.
Where once the cuckoos sang with panache,
the vile sounds of machines echoed in those lands.

Dreams were crushed and families were torn apart,
as the noxious fumes of over-ambition seeped in.
And as they were inhaled, good sense was lost,
and greed registered an unfortunate win.

Hope changed into despair, as it always does,
And peace was shattered by dirty dog-fights.
And even as the ailing village bled out woes,
The infiltrators sucked gold with all their mights.

The mountains were scarred, the rivers turned black,
As acres of forests were mercilessly axed down.
Once they were the villager’s sacred totems,
But, now they were just causes of a corporate’s frown.

And, when all money was minted from the place,
The vultures abandoned the fleshless carcasses.
The offended lands now refused to yield,
Either cash crops or lush green grasses.

So it was…men were bartered for money,
and nature ignored with blasphemous ruthlessness.
And, the peace of a prosperous, unassuming village,
was thrown into gaping chasms of wilderness.


NISHANK MEHTA  |  07.02.2008