Me – The Puzzled Person

by. Mrs. Geeta Chabbra

Daily, newspapers and tv channels report:

Unrest is fuming unrest.

The excruciating agony of nations,

Riddled by the shambles of reality – 

War, famines, tsunami, corruption,

Interrupt my life, hardly.

What view is to be taken,

To stop feeling bound with my

Own life, and is that feasible?

The intermittent lulls of being a soldier

From my desk is the easy habit

Of commitment for me!


I am aware:

Somewhere, a child is dying

By the experience of starvation.

I am aware:

Somewhere, mothers with kids

Are being raped.

I am aware:

Somewhere, streets are bloody

To show off the rule of life:

Might is Right.

I know:

It is all wrong.


Invariably, the capacity of sleep wavers.

In fiery madness,

Demonic sounds approach my ears.

I am alone and submissive

To the voices of tanks, bombs,

Anything that kills life.

There is blazing fire.

I am a cowering prisoner.

Then, with a startling suddenness,

I am awake.


What view is to be taken,

To stop feeling bound with my 

Own life..?