The days spill into nights;
A man boasting of his 56-inch chest,
Of the crowds that cheer him on;
Proud to lead thousands into the Ganges
Naked in their blind faith in a God
We have conquered the beast, he proclaims
The nation celebrates a return
To the hustle and bustle of the everyday
Weddings, events, homecomings;
Feels almost like a dream.

But it returns with a vengeance,
Ripping through our people
Like a wrecking ball, indifferent
To the way they offer their prayers
Eventually they all meet the same fate
Wrapped in white plastic, amid hundreds.

The muezzin’s call pierces the silence
As dawn comes, bringing with it no hope.
The funeral pyres crackle, the flames rise 
into the dark skies. Caskets line up,
Waiting to be lowered into the ground

Young. Old. Rural. Urban.
Hindu. Muslim. Sikh. Christian.
But we all wear the same blue PPE
With shattered hearts and broken spirits.
Our cries of anguish and pain pierce the night
A billion dreams go up in smoke, the light leaves our eyes
God fled this nation years ago;
When we bartered humanity for empty progress.