Thinking for the sake of thinking is not my cup of tea
Though there are times when thinking enters my cup of tea
The images on my screen desperately try to save me from my thought
Without success for it all comes to a nought
A rock in the river of thoughts strikes my head
And I hear the words "God does not exist" being said
Not for the first time have I heard these words
For such utterances fight in my head with their swords
Injuring themselves almost mortally in this process
Makes me forget such thoughts for a recess
I continue to converse with the one who resides in the sky
Who refuses to respond for he or she is probably shy
I continue to thank or admonish the all powerful one
For everything that is done and undone.
I seek for a response by pushing my ear skyward
But am unable to hear back even a word
Yet for a brief while I live in this secure bubble
Till the walls with the word "God exists" starts to crumble
A spanner thrown into my life strikes me on my head
And I hear the words "God does not exist" being said
And then the times changed.
Like water flowing out of floodgates of a flooded dam
Bad news fell upon us like questions in an exam
An organism smaller than small kissed humanity
And drove people to the edge of insanity
Like rays that emanate from the corona of the sun
Humans with shovels in their hand were on the run
Many more than expected went underground
Some breathing while others hugged the ground
The count of deaths standing on pillars made of bits
Proved the ease with which the organism transmits
Without prejudice death picked up people from all quarters
Thus making some deaths more unexpected than others
It was thus that many of the well-knowns
Left to the land of the unknowns
Their list is not long...
Little Richard gave away his piano
James Lipton decided to get out of the studio
Spartacus Douglas was not given another century
Kenny Rogers had lived through the years in the country
The Life of Irrfan was only longer than a short story
Rishi probably had a few more years of glory
Wajid left in the midst without the bang
Basu Chatterjee added his name to our pang
Florian Schneider decided not to kreft anymore of his werk
Clive Cussler's eight and eight was his last work
A Chiranjeevi could not live up to his name
But what happened to the twenty Indian soldiers is a shame
Not happy with the death of many across the world
The Chinese villainy extended to places cold
Though sad, none affected me more
Than when the news of Sushanth's death came to the fore
Memories of Kedarnath and Sonchiriya were still fresh
The sadness of the characters seemed sewn to his flesh
I remembered the ground cave from under Mansoor's feet
As he waved good bye to someone he would never again meet
But Sushanth did not wave goodbye to anyone
When the ground from under his feet was gone
As in reel in real too he left far too soon
A life that ended in the month of June
Many shook their heads in disbelief
While the Bees of the world shook each other's hand in relief
Trying hard to suppress their congratulatory smiles
For this one had worried them at many times
With his display of intelligence and ability
His capability had earned their hostility
The Bees of the world had to be on the top
Towards this end Sushanth's rise had to stop
Unable to find happiness in themselves
The Bees found happiness by shoving others in miserable wells
They enthralled the millions with their antics and complacence
Hiding their grimy insides under layers of paint and fragrance
The Bees will continue to live
By causing misery to others who are outside their hive
Ever watchful under the veils of innocence
To manipulate and keep the world in ignorance
Anyone who doubts their credibility
Are made aware of their vulnerability
I don't care if God exists
For evil in this world persists
Creating misery for people world over
While sitting mighty on a chair of power
Without care for the prayers of the devoted
Queuing up in places where God's honour is promoted
But you won't find me in such premises
And yet I believe in order and fairness
Oh! I have been proven to be a fool
For I live in a world that follows not one rule
I am uninformed!
My understanding of truth is deformed
I am unable to understand right from wrong
To hell with right and wrong!
Who knows what is right and what isn't?
Who knows who is wrong and who isn't?
Everyone's twisting the right to their convenience
Forcing everyone to utter the same with vehemence
Expecting us to utter their versions of truth
Expecting us to even believe their versions of truth
Like they want us believe that poor Sushanth was depressed
Let his soul rest in peace they cry sounding distressed
He could not help but take his own life without warning
One Sunday morning had to be his final morning
They convince us that no one else is responsible for his death
It was his choice; he should have opened up when he had his breath
Wanting us to forget about his existence
But not before throwing at us numbers to call for assistance
While one is contemplating about placing one's neck
Within the noose hanging down like a plaque
The Bees continue to be protected by their Gods
Feeling that they rule this planet like lords
While I cower in a corner hoping to be ignored
For anonymity is all that I can afford
