In Exchange

For the number of times that I have thought you don't exist,
I could have...


...sailed across 24,906 miles around the earth. 
And surfed on a sea of countless copper pennies.

...flipped through 478 crisp white pages in 963 old books.
And connected those shiny fragmented dots on an indigo sky.

...consumed 1,848 rich calories in every greasy meal.
And wasted endless hour-full minutes in wishful thinking.

...built five-story houses from 1,84,000 well-glazed bricks.
And installed a private salt-water lake made of tears.

But because you still dwell in the crevices of the heart.
And you survive in every gushing pulsating milli-beat.

The equations are now in perfect balance.

And I'm left with Nothing.

Who Pays?

Who drew those boundary lines on maps? Can you still see them from the sky? Who said who belonged where? How did it all begin?

If our country was born, who cut the umbilical cord?
And where is the forsaken mother?
If our country is free, who cut the shackles?
And who has had to pay the price?

Is there real freedom in democracy? Is our land in good hands?
So long as we stay unaffected, does it even matter?
Or are we making amends?

113 wounded and survived out of 134 - what do we make of them?
Have they lost a limb? Lost their jobs? Lost faith in tomorrow?
Were they bread-earners? Mothers? Only sons?
Can their families afford to look after them?
Are they treated with respect like veterans of war?
Or are we just choosing to ignore them?

With over 20 million people sprawling the city, does that small number affect anything?