Chicken Soup and Soul Betting

a poem by Shail Raghuvanshi

A drought here, floods there,
a cyclone here, earthquakes scattered elsewhere-
all Mother Nature’s anger in action.
The ozone hole a danger signal for us hapless souls
yet, we live our lives unaffected
stretching our mounds of habitation
till they burst at the seams.
The West turns towards the East
(it’s fashionable you know for foreign hands to dip their fingers in spice and curry!)
The East surges blindly towards the West
(it’s chic you know to fly in fleets of fashion and software!)
Why do cultures look everywhere else except within themselves?
Destruction for gain that’s all we humans are capable of,
a pity really,
as pure and perfect creation gets usurped by chicken soup and betting of souls.