Anit Mukherjee


I hear no sound on the streets these days,

But the noise of rampant extremism,

The winds once carried the fragrance

From the flower-bed nearby,

Now they carry nothing but the howls

Of adjectives being hurled to and fro.


I see no human on the streets these days,

Only the instruments of divisiveness,

It is an abomination of civility where human-

No longer inspires one another, only scrutinizes,

No longer empathises with one another, only classifies,

No longer responds to one another, only vitiates.


I hear no friendly advice these days,

Only the directives of blood-red eyes,

All the Philosophers,Guides and Friends

Have vanished; given way to

Dictators, Anarchists and Stooges,

Leaving us to suffocatein whirlwind of conformity.


I hear no saintly utterance these days

Of all the roads, traversed honestly, leading to truth,

Even the idea of truth has gone through the ordeal of being

Defiled and desecrated, re-structured and re-defined,

One is no longer permitted to begin the quest for truth,

Rather is paratroopped into the defined boundaries fabricated.


I see no intellect these days

Thriving to stand unique, apart from crowd,

All are rushing in the race of conformity,

Either to the left, or to the right,

As the sheer human density nauseates the extremes,

The ungrazed field of ideas in between, in despair, gazes.


Anit Mukherjee ,an engineer by  profession but  a poet by nature.anit