Rebel Poetry

The cursed idea of development

Birds are crying and trees are screaming in pain

Life is temporary!

The decisions you make are permanent.

Not a lot happens in silence.

But destruction is seen in decadence.

Maa! Maa! Maa! (All I see are shadows slapped with stickers around them, for sale)

“It's the bridge! the bridge that will kill all of us!”

“What are you saying in your sleep Abhi?”, Meera asks.

“I am saying GDP is a hoax.”

“But why do countries call GDP a measure of excellence.”

“Because they are being fed a lie. Wars are a product of currency, part of the goods and services we produce.”

“What about GDP per capita?”

“That’s a hoax too. Did you account for the income share of the top and the bottom population.”

“But these are the fundamentals of economics of today’s world to measure prosperity and development.”

“Something when used does not make it right. Countless children are dying in the Cobalt mines of Mali. Coal is powering electricity. Where is the GDP-environmental damage index? Where is the electricity coming from in China where Elon has his Tesla factory?”

“Regardless, we need to stop the construction of the bridge. This is the Himalayas where woods don’t fall, the birds don’t die nestless. But it's about to happen, they will rip it apart. Do you remember Chipkoo where our folks wrapped themselves around the trees and were willing to die for the trees? We need that level of commitment.”

Time is an avid teacher.

It not only teaches but also preaches.

Knows when to call out hypocrisy.

An agency rests like an interloping entity.

It merges with you in favour.

But then you try becoming God!

And it tries to show you your place.

In this mindless race, do not save your face.

Stop lying and deceiving, saying you are not the culprit.

You are! You have been! You will be!

In times to come, times that are gone, time that is now.

All shall bow and kneel to heal the lungs and heart of nature.

But the fissures of reality have already vanished in thin air.

There is no fair game alongside your greyer hair, of times you saw

and did not utter, the price will be paid a bigger one in fact.

But not you, the coming future, these sins are generational.

In North Korea’s prisons, they jail people for up to 3 generations.

In frustration, do not try running fast, in haste, you will lose your last words.

The end to cruel hegemony had to saw its end someday……

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