Embrace me Burma!


Burma, if you have a heart
Embrace me please
I have stopped looking at my own shoes
Now I look beyond these lofty mountains
I see nothing in them except a handful of useless dust
I stop looking towards west
To me it is all just a waste
I stop leaning on India
Delhi crushed me among its sky scrapers and dtc buses
Mumbai left me stranded in the railway tracks
Bangalore didn’t let me smoke at my own will
Kolkata is too much of mouth revolution.
And we have been the niggers of India;
Read Pacha and Samarendra.

Burma if you need a lover
That’s me
Embrace me
kiss me please
Let me spread my wings in your poppy field
Let me sail in your smallest river with all my songs
Let me cry out all the tear that I save in this punctured heart
Let me shit out what I have eaten
I have eaten what have not grown in my land
I ate hilsha from Barak River
I ate wheat that grows in Uttarpradesh
I slept on the mattress that was made in Delhi
I sang Guthrie and Pete Seeger
I  wear VIPs
I drank 8pm of Haryana at 8am in morning
i danced in the song of Indian Ocean
i climbed the Western Ghats with Iranians
I smoked the dry leaves of Manali
Still I was my own man standing alone
Singing “Ema Nangumbi Leite”
Now, I can’t praise my land with my poverty
Now I need a new land that gives food


Burma, Le me see your prison
And makes me feel I suffer less
Less than your outlaws and criminals
I was told you dump your criminals
In a Polang like chickens in Chingmeirong Bazaar
Burma, embrace me
Let me wear that bamboo hat
Like famers that farm everything
You will not regret to be my lover
No great poets write a line for your Tamu
And cheap sex inside your wooden cabin.
But I do, if you don’t believe me
Look at e-pao.net
You will find me whistling singing;
“Go fuck yourself with your AFSPA”
Along the Indo-Myanmar border.

Burma, Let me be a drug lord
Let me wear those golden chains
Let me measure the angles of Golden Triangle
Let me smack cocaine, let me smell you
Let me bleed out all this blood
That this heart churns breathing oxygen
That comes out from death and all these fake revolution.

Burma, Just give me a shelter
You are the closest to me.
I love no monks except the seven year old monk
I even hate U2’s  song on Aung Sang Su kyi
I don’t know what the freedom fighters do in your Jungles
I haven’t heard about a hero of guerrilla warfare
Who emerges from your jungle.
But I know what I can do with myself
If you provide me a shelter and a guitar
A blank page and a poppy flower.
Burma, just embrace me
You will find me very fine








--
Dept. of Physics
Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi 110014, INDIA

1 comment:

okeloyaikhom said...

Da akhu... Da best of all... S she is our neighbour... Sense of humor striking all... N a motivator... I luv the poem.. Always!