Manto says the blame’s on all

I had written this poem in my first year of college. The poem has been written in the memory of Sadat Hasan Manto – the famous writer – who always preached non violence. The poem tells us Indians to stop our attitude of shedding blood every now and then.

Manto says the blame’s on all

But who cares, we are ready for the fall

He wrote short stories, 250 in all

But who cares, we are ready for the fall.

1947: the year we were free

We went on a killing spree

Brotherhood forgotten, love long lost

Let’s see today, who slaughters the most

Manto was shaken,

And so were the rest

Birds were scared,

Even in their nests.

Some said, ‘its all because of these British

Before they came there was nothing amiss’

We accepted it then

Felt good for the heart

After all we are Indians,

Pretty smart.

Years passed Manto was dead

Trotting trudging lives we lead

Thought we had rewritten our past

So 1984 left us aghast!

Mirrored the same old violence and vengeance

Our thirst for blood wasn’t quenched

For a hollow identity

For something so fake

How could we put our everything on stake?

No one spoke, not only the khadi-clad

Not even you, me or any common lad

Soon we forgot soon we were back

Our normal lives again on track.

1992 our throat ran dry

Long time didn’t see anyone cry

Hunger for some more blood

A little more shroud

How could we live without - it

Our staple diet!

More blood, more gore

Still chanting ‘more, more’

This wasn’t all

Just a bigul ‘call’

A lot was left

Grief, lust, theft

Houses broken, broken hearts

Broken into pieces, shreds and parts

Jigsaw puzzle, did we think it so?

Lives can’t be fixed, they are meant to grow.

It happened then,

It’s happening now,

Only numbers remain,

As years move on.

Manto is dead,

And so will be the rest,

We didn’t care then,

We don’t care now.

So let’s accept our fault, and put a halt

This killing spree must come to a stop

Manto had said the blame’s on all …

                    the blame’s on all …