AMONG TALES UNTOLD

For sympathy's sake, on his demise,

Men talked of him, and women cried.

Till the day when a last breath he drew,

We scorned his rantings, just like you.

His suit I hear, went to his grave,

Pronouncing that the man was brave.

His life I hear, went into war,

Declaring that which he stood for.

No maiden of ours did he ever woo,

No confederate could get him through.

Hence no beloved marks his tombstone,

Just as him, his name alone.

Far from home, where his woman may await,

Unaware of her husband's twist of fate.

And here he lies, in a foreign land's cold,

Amid his chosen pride, among tales untold.

-Karan Ghosh

BESIDE THE ENEMY

His cold limbs remained aloof of me,

A sleep resting and existing in him.

Calloused crease constructing pleas,

The war in his head, still breathing dim.

The pride in him being deprived space,

And resistance hovers only in his brows 

Willing, wrinkled arms; sharp, pale face.

A harvest awaits him now at his ploughs.

I caused him sweat, I drew his blood,

I've wanted to cause his folk a memory.

So as to feed my heart in the name of duty,

And just so that the dying be not me.

-Karan Ghosh 

EPISTLE TO THE ENEMY

With weary eyes, I gaze upon this sheet,

Whose uttering your eyes will soon meet.

This I render, for I must convey,

Of one righteous calling that I must obey.

So prepare you your infantry and yourself too,

As I march to charge and conquer over you.

No more may we breathe of the same sky,

Hence it be clear that one of us, one must die.

To you- The bringer of dismay I write,

The one whose guilty of wounding my pride.

All your goods may unite, yet cannot make,

A case for the wronging, a trial's debate.

-Karan Ghosh