Dear Miss Plagiarius!
You are the representative face
Here in the Cousin Countries
Yes, you defend the whites
The whites like the intrigued onions
Wraps of mysteries and designs
As if sneaky ripples in the Northern lagoons

Still you are the freshest Northern face
Like the morning dew in its elegance
Dear Miss Plagiarius!

Though, something inside me yells
And then wriggles out with Southern force
To know, not guess
The ripples in the Northern lakes
While I tend to forget that the ripples
Within the self are as worse
As the one-way contradictions
Called crucial vehicles
Of imperialist globalisation
Driven by the minority elites
Those elites dictating the policies
Of the Trinity of globalisation
That is WB, IMF, and WTO

Are not they the victory chariots
Of one-way machination
Forced on the majority communities?
Are not they the convinced corollaries
Of privatisation and monopolisation schemes?

I see how afraid I am of your slogans
and while thinking of you I suspect
Whether you are integral
To the design of one-way globalisation

I am afraid of you dear Miss
Like I am suspect of your Northern icy face
In it I see the Western machination
I feel the impact of the design
Of one-way globalisation
Every time I shake hand with you dear
I see it approaching my neck

Sensing the hatching of plots, conspiracies
I see myself as stockpile of chickens
Laden hurriedly in the city bound lorries
Like garbage layers in the city litter bins
Full of mosquitoes, cows, pigs,
Dogs, mouse, urchins and rag pickers
Unmindful of the killing stench

Inside me, the terrible smell burgeons
Even as I find it difficult to see a way out

Me, a Southern Prometheus
Keep on thinking of you Miss
Though I know you have come to oppose
Purportedly the diktats of WTO, IMF, and WB
At the platform of WSF process

Still believe I dear Miss Plagy
That in the garb of Brutus
You will not take us towards
The fate of Caesar Julius!

There is no going back, however, on the issues
Dearest to our Southern hearts
There is no sunset for our dreams
To make another world of the divided worlds
And we have the faith and hopes
That IMF, WB, and WTO
Wait for their mammoth death knells
And, we have the will to bring in sunsets
Even in the freezing Northern hemispheres
For the trinity of IMF, WTO, and WB

I see, my desire has finally comprehended results
Layer after layer the activist inside me unrolls
Like onions, unwraps like human bodies
I keep on the staple diet of thought
While I try to know how truth materialises!

I do not know how easy it is
To be the Northern pole with all superiorities
With you being mighty and imitating the Almighty
Overlooking invincible urges of feminity!

You continue to talk dear Miss Plagy
Being a difficult woman having inveterate face-offs
In the era of one-way globalisation and WTO
Being as real as China’s dumping
On India, in India of its excess goodies
You are as real as Bangladeshis
Bribing to cross over to the Indian territories
It is similar to the Indian and Pakistani soldiers
Exchanging fire over water and goats
It is as cruel as cricket teams
Trying to take revenge
For being humiliated deep down histories

Dear Miss, you talk a lot, about liberties
About political democracies and ecologies
While you hold back your designs
In multiple moods and modes
And motivated unphilosophic reveries

You talk about poverty, hunger and beggars
About racism, neglectism, feminism and politicians
While I contemplate your superiority
Wrapped in the hidden process
While I see a sense of superiority in your eyes
While I see my dark face, sagging fingers
In the mirrors of your sparkling green eyes
While I see my black skin drying up
In spiritual sublime!

Still, I think you are the brightest face
Politically the most correct ideology
Sparkling in that little of North which has
Some caring concerns
For us in the South with little choices!
Dear Miss, I believe
That South also exists in your North!!

Dear Globalisation
I have fallen in love with you
do you follow me
Globy dearest
you are my Valentine!

WTO told me you are
a nice guy with nicest intentions
WB advised me you are
as reliable as Uncle Sam
and, as large hearted as Pepsi-Coke ads
IMF told me you are
trustworthy like Sun and Moon

Dearest Globy!
I am told you have done
all good to the world
to its peoples
across the deep seas
through the large continents
traversing great expanses, high mountains

But, dearest Globy
please tell me
why most of them dislike you
are they fool or malicious
and let me know
who are the enemies
Why they are after you, my love
why they want to drag you out of the world
please tell me what harm
you have done to them

Dearest Globy
do you listen to me
where have you hidden all these times
tell me of your designs
your existence, your form
the shape and dimensions

Do you look like a lanky Black
or a small-skinny Brown
or a Yellow lean
or a White bulky
where do you come from
are you Alice's brother from the Wonderland

Dearest Globy
I am worried of your future
they are in the combative mode now
they have acquired the tools
to deal with you badly
they have produced lethal bombs
in their labs
in Brazil's Porto Alegre
in India's Mumbai
and they have the potent ammunition
to wipe you out!

For all unknown and known soldiers who laid their lives

The drowsy Pacific sank
While the Albatross kept
Flying and rolling
Up and down
Watching the warships stranded
Concealing the tales of
Defeat and humiliation
The clay that lay
Beneath the swirling sea
Still bears the brunt of
Parched mosaics

There are always
Faces like this
That crumble
On the slightest instance
Of ferocity

I contemplate however
This is not the dream
I dreamt

On Black Tuesday, The Might Tumbled
The radio stations scream headlines
Break chilling, shocking, cruel news
And the TV networks bring horror into the rooms
Sees everybody the mighty towers
On fire, kneeling on the grounds
Smoke from the smouldering remains
Billowing over the changed skylines
In the vicinity, lesser monoliths
Observing silence being silhouettes
In disbelief, they see the mighty towers
Wrapped in dark and cloudy flames
And tumbling down of the pride-symbols
In panic, people running for shelters
Wondering how easy devastation is
Isn't it a union of reality and fantasies
And devastation full of traumatic scenes
Without hiccup, animated telegenics
About the frenzy of flames?
But, for a while contemplate let us
Who, in reality, responsible is?