I had brought a plastic gun for my little son;
I thought he will feel the shoes of an army man.

Lo! I saw him aiming at an urchin polite;
Addressing himself as a hardcore terrorist…

I stopped, thenceforth, buying any more guns for him;
I filled his room with creative things that’d tempt him.

He grew up reading, researching, gaining degrees;
Plunging into ventures apt for human service…

Guns and gunmen he has under him, now, millions
He heads million military battalions.

I heard, some psycho, with guns, entering a school,
And leaving innocent students in a blood pool.

India, known once, a non-violent-nation;
Getting works done, at gunpoint, is today, common.

Guns are good. The purpose of guns is not to kill;
Cops have guns. They’re not entitled to use them still.

Guns are instruments like plows or spades or sickles;
Use these for humanity. Reach life’s pinnacles!