" •• ACCRETION •• Nicked I am, in a circular race, Limping still to the supreme fate Dicey to the followers, I engraved one path, Accretion of sins, a thousands were at gate. A rational believer, an eye rarely catches Hearkens the earthy crawlers often less. One ear hears million moans every week, The slits, the cuts, the scars, and some mending, The dragging, the killing and some burning tress. To bewail on one and Diwali on eight, Accretion of prejudice, the Mohram doesn’t wait. Hewed gingerly as a nation of pariah, I survive, to survive is ill-starred to this nation Huff and puff out, the lungs learnt in pious womb If this is living, I live it and they thrive too. If we both share one cranial bulk – exception ignored Where do thee cook and spit on me, The accretion of venom vat in thy heart? One species and two genera, one advices the two, The accretion isn’t, the over-accretion may spurt, But let the good one flow more And let the foul run down more Let the accretion of virtuous nurture To spate off the accretion of poison vats."