My dreams have become colourless, odourless, tasteless;
My nightmares come in all hues of
hatred,
fear,
grief.
I yearn for the days
when I did not have to wear saffron
and detest green
to live in peace.
I yearn for the days
when symbols of religion were symbolic,
and its tenets remained in the collective memories
of no one in particular,
while we circumambulated its edifices
without a discordant thought or fanaticism.
I wake up to news of
communal riots, inter-religious skirmishes, deaths, rapes, sacrifices.
But now I do not even flinch.
I yearn for the days
when the world contained more humans and less gods.
My nightmares come in all hues of
hatred,
fear,
grief.
I yearn for the days
when I did not have to wear saffron
and detest green
to live in peace.
I yearn for the days
when symbols of religion were symbolic,
and its tenets remained in the collective memories
of no one in particular,
while we circumambulated its edifices
without a discordant thought or fanaticism.
I wake up to news of
communal riots, inter-religious skirmishes, deaths, rapes, sacrifices.
But now I do not even flinch.
I yearn for the days
when the world contained more humans and less gods.
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