At Marine Drive
in Arabian Sea,
Kabir and Tuka,
god's own seditionists,
at New Delhi,
shaved of discontent,
feeding Vemula and Kanhaiya,
varan-bhat,
cooked by Vittala and Rakkumai;
god's own truant kids,
swing to drums
tuned to Marx and Madhav,
Rumi and Rakoyan;
across centuries
times and protests,
ever same,
hard times.
No free times.
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