Ropeway from Gandhi to Godhra

Grains of life, I earn from Gulf…

Where once a half-clad saint knew about
Watermarks of wind, in landforms
As beige and broken as conquests.

In faith on time and pressure, saplings he sowed
As empathic as mother’s womb,
And desperate as farmer’s hope for rains,
Cracked a wall that canon balls could not bomb.

***

Grains of life, I earn from Gulf…

Where surf of sea now lashes
Like sword, through fault lines
Larger and deeper than communities.

Vessels sent long back, loom over the horizon again
With barrels of oil, as inflammable as
Hunger for money, and addiction to identity,
To displace those saplings faster and secretive
…than nuclear weapon can.