there's hope in you

You are at the bottom of the charts
In most exams that the world sets for you,
Infant mortality, education, and what not.
You run like the rusted wheels
Of an ancient locomotive, pushing yourself through
The mired mazes of stench,
Civilisations heaped, haphazard,
On the edge of your track.
On your roads, you carry bullock carts,
Alongside Silver Phantom cars,
And never once cringe
At the disparity of it all.

And yet, despite it all,
There’s a charm about you,
In your vivid colours,
The heady aromas that fill your homes,
Your castles, kings, queens and silks,
The torrid showers of your monsoons,
Your raging rivers,
The burst of colours in your forests and fields,
In your poetry and art
In the multitude of your tongues.
In the way you walk to the brink, and back,
With a resilience that’s hard to define

It’s easy to fall in love with you, India,
Despite all the delusions that may surround you.