The Dark Lord

I am the lord of the darkness,
I thrive in the dark, cold, and foggy nights,
I am scared, to death, of people,
their love, light, and warmth gives me a fright,
as it's not the animals,
but the people who actually bites,
on a peaceful world,
they are stain, a woe, a blight.

Unlike them, I might be dull, and not bright,
black, and not white,
full of darkness, and not light,
just a wight, and not a knight,
but I know what's wrong and right,
and I go out during those dark, cold, and foggy nights,
that time of the day which is devoid of light,
the time which makes even the Bellona's bridegroom shake with fright,
and relieve people and animals from their plights.

~Caritas, Lux, et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.

Ask Not About Me

Ask not about me, my name,
but about my dreams, my aim,
the things, that keep me awake,
during the night, and beyond the daybreak,
for I am mortal, bound to die,
a decaying corpse, beneath the sky,
but my dreams are immortal,
living for eternity, outliving all,
for I may neither be of any worth,
nor be able to justify my birth,
but every thing on the face of the Earth,
will be revolutionized when my dreams will take birth.

~Caritas, Lux, et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.

A Letter To Physics

Dear Physics, thou art so wild and free,
this is the reason why I love thee,
but as far as I can foresee,
in return thou will never love me.

With thee, I want to find synergy,
so that we can create free energy,
so that we can enlighten the world,
even though it sounds totally absurd.

With thee, I want to travel physical time and space,
so that I can rhyme about thy gorgeous face,
and write about the physical theories and laws,
which will make people regard thee with awe.

With thee, I want to terraform,
the moon, into a dorm,
so that the homeless will have a place to stay,
and to be far from the harm's way.

I want thou to be my wife,
so that together we can create the elixir of life,
with which, a long and healthy life, we can own,
in addition to the gold from the philosopher's stone.

Although, for it, there is not much scope,
but still, I have really high hopes,
that someday, together we will be,
much love, Dr. Mercury.

~Caritas, Lux, et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.

When The Lights Turn Red

When the lights turn red,
traffic comes to a halt,
but they begin to earn,
their peanut butter and bread.

A group of young girls, all maybe fourteen,
who, like others, were destined to be queens,
were deceived and sold into prostitution,
where their bodies are daily put up for auction.

At the signal, they showcase their flesh,
to lure clients, from whom they earn cash,
with which they will buy their independence,
from selling their very bodies for a few pence.

A group of trans-persons,
whom the society shun,
who are as much a person as you and I,

but are still hated, I fail to understand why.

At the signal, they extend their rough palms,
hoping that the people, who deny them jobs, will see,
beyond their gender, and have some mercy,
so that they can feed their hungry selves with the alms.

A group of homeless,
living in a terrible mess,
forced into beggary,
by their callous destiny.

At the signal, despite feeling reluctant,
to go forward to people and entreat,
they beg, because otherwise they can't,
get their embarrassed selves something to eat.

A group of street hawkers,
passes through the gawkers,
in extreme cold, rain, and sun,
with their daughters and sons.

At the signal, they try to sell,
the things the people may not need,
like hair gel, bell, and cell,
so, their tired selves, they can feed.

Let us not be deficient in propriety,
and create a communist society,
where every single person is well fed,
whether or not the lights have turned red.

~Caritas, Lux, et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.

The Intersection Between Sexism And Speciesism

Last winter, we were doing a Vegan outreach near Chinnaswamy stadium in Bangalore. We were speaking about Veganism, and distributing leaflets to the passersby. We are against leafleting because of environmental reasons, and giveaway the leaflets only to the people who looks interested/asks for them. A group of teenagers where passing by. A girl in the group stopped by, and asked us for a leaflet. We gave one to her. After receiving the leaflet she went forward to join her group. One of her male friend snatched the leaflet from her hand, tore it into pieces, and threw the pieces on the road. He said something to her in an angry tone which was inaudible. The girl turned to look at us, she was embarrassed. I was furious at the boy for tearing the leaflet and wasting resources. He could have easily returned the leaflet instead of wasting it.

Little did I know then that it was more concerning than merely the wastage of resources. Yesternight, while reading a study on how womyn are stigmatized for being Vegan, I realized that it was underlying sexism at play. It is a well known fact that Vegans are stigmatized by malzoans for being Vegan, but unfortunately, womyn are more stigmatized than their male counterparts. This is mainly because of the sexist belief that womyn cannot choose for themselves, and that their male counterparts have control over them.

Speciesism is as bad as sexism, because non-humyn animals, the victims of speciesism, are considered as the property of the speciesists, the humyn, just like womyn, the victims of sexism, are considered as the property of the sexists, the men. There is clearly an intersection between both kind of oppression. For more understanding on the issue, one can read "The Sexual Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory" by Carol J. Adams

Caritas, Lux, et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.

मैं लिखता हूँ

मैं ज़िंदा हूँ,
और ज़िन्दगी का क़र्ज़ चुकाने के लिए लिखता हूँ।
मैं लिखता हूँ,
हर लम्हे को यादगार बनाने के लिए लिखता हूँ।

मैं ज़िंदा हूँ,
और ज़िन्दगी की कश्मकश मिटाने के लिए लिखता हूँ।
मैं लिखता हूँ,
हर शब्द को अपना बनाने के लिए लिखता हूँ।

मैं ज़िंदा हूँ,
और ज़िंदा रहने के लिए लिखता हूँ।
मैं लिखता हूँ,
हर शब्द पर मर मिटने के लिए लिखता हूँ।

~स्नेह, प्रकाश, और सत्य;
हसरत बनारसी

[Translation: 
I am alive, and in order to pay off the debts of life, I write.
I write, to make every moment memorable, I write.

I am alive, and in order to reduce the dilemma of life, I write.
I write, to make every word my own, I write. 

I am alive, and in order to stay alive, I write. 
I write, to get annihilated on words, I write.]

सोने की कीमत

वह कहते है की सोना महंगा हो गया है ,
सोना क्या, यहाँ जीना महंगा हो गया है,
चार का चावल आज चालीस में बिक रहा है,
दो वक़्त की रोटी  के लिए, आज पूरा इंसान बिक है।

पर क्या जीना और सोना,
सच में महंगा हो गया है?

पाँच रुपये में,
रस्सी का फन्दा बांध,
ज़िन्दगी का कर अंत,
हम अंतकाल तक सो सकते है।

जीने का तोह पता नहीं,
पर बरसो बाद आज, ज़िन्दगी और सोना सस्ता हुआ है।

~स्नेह, प्रकाश, और सत्य;
हसरत बनारसी

Noise Of Silence

No matter how much, in our defense, we raise our voice,

our silence on oppression, will still have a higher noise,

as it fails to address,

the plight of beings whom we oppress.

Of their oppression,

not a word has been spoken,

as it would have woken,

our sleeping conscience.

Why are we so afraid and shy,

of talking about the pain and the cries,

of the beings whom we oppress days and nights,

about whose suffering we are so criminally quite.

Why are we failing to understand,

that with every passing moment of our silence,

on them, we are only furthering the violence,

which they are unable to stand.

Why are we too timid to say,

that because of oppression, every life lost,

has an inherently high cost,

which we will be unable to pay.

Why are we failing to apprehend,

that every silence,

has a noise,

which we won't be able to stand.

~Caritas, Lux et Varitas;
The Unknown Poet.