M M Ahmad

The New Year Baby,
In the hands of the old,
The old lady with a young toy,
Dementia gripped,
Sanitized toy breathing hard,
For an uncertain survival.

Election is an expense
At the cost of the people,
Voters are poor, rustics and rugged
Noble man attired white says:

Millions, Billions, Trillions
I know not.

French kiss or Indian hugs,
I know not.

Social contacts, HIV or cancer,
I know not.

The Election Commission of India is responsible for executing free and fair elections across the country. This is one of the most respectful institutions constitutionally empowered to exercise its power in letter and spirit. Challenges are many but the foremost is the abuse of black money by the candidates. Be it anything, their sole purpose is to win the election. Tainted politicians, regardless of their magnitude of criminal history, they manage to win elections and reach the parliament.

Call this country by any name, still the average Indian breaths in immortal India. Mere geographical boundary and ethnic background of an individual has never been the only attraction to any stranger of different race or community across the world who thought of visiting India or even invading it.

What one can say something out of nothing? Two opponents indulge in a discussion face to face to draw a conclusion about the power of two-digit number: 69; the one takes it as is where is, but the other one takes it as 96.

Thoughtful pronouncement of Talaq is a solution and never a problematic bad social practice. It must not be treated as a ritual or religious dogma. It is a legal provision which can be exercised sensibly by either gender in their respective capacity or in the court of law.

India has never been a communal and theocratic country. Unity in cultural and religious diversity has always been the essence of our political system. The Jinx as beef reminds us again that the onetime British Raj used it to divide and confuse people.

Enmity in politics in a democratic country like India has always been a butt of bitter criticism. No one outwardly likes it neither it was ever before during the era of our stalwarts national politicians.

Hymns and hums alongside the blowing conch is the daily remarked arrival of the sun at the edge of the river Ganges in Banaras. This elegant and magnanimous picture remained always tagged with me until the moment of my departure from Delhi where I was a second year graduate student in 1983.