How do I read of thee, O Rama?#


How do I read of thee, O Rama,
When your name is a war cry?
Not when your Sita is whisked away,
But when mobs raise orange flags.

How do I read of thee, O Rama,
When blood is spilled at your name?
Not when Indrajit fells Lakshmana,
But when innocent children are slain?

How do I read of thee, O Rama,
When women are raped for you?
Not because you asked, no,
But because they veil themselves.

How do I read of thee, O Rama,
When fire burns saffron in your praise?
Agni burns both fakirs and kafirs alike.
What does he know of directed malaise?

But I do read of you, Rama,
Because they don’t.
They don’t know all your stories,
Or your names, from Raghava to Phra Lam.

Note

This is something I wrote on the spur of the moment after reading Bhisham Sahni’s Tamas, a book on communal hatred.