Saturday, 31 December 2011


Cardboard cutouts of crepuscular birds
Silently flap their wings
In a jagged arrowhead
Over chaos, despondence, carnage
Riding into the dusk of 2011.
End of Act I; thank God it's over.
The audience awaits the next Act
That would miraculously usher in:
A nation riding on wings of Hope
Justice, Equality, Dignity, Amity, Knowledge.

Act II; oh, how we awaited it?
Suddenly, there are no tears,
No poor and naked,
No hopeless suicides,
No communal violence
No rapes, no child molestations
No loot, no guns, no bombs.
No Hindus, Muslims, Christians and others
Telling us that their god is the only real God.
Suddenly, a tinsel sun is lowered on stage,
And glimmers over a 'clear stream of reason'
Leading its way slowly but surely
'Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit'
 And young children waving tricolors
Appear singing, "Jai Hind"
To accompaniment of a gentle flute.

As a dazed audience starts leaving
From gallery, stalls and aisles;
The oft repeated comments,
In the applause, are:
"If a play called 'New Year'
Can usher in all this,
Why can't we stage it everyday?"

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