From the book "Dahan" in Hindi. Translated into English by Sankrant Sanu.

'Tis the times of terror
The march of mayhem
And one evening
Called out my mom.

"Son! Don't go out
When it turns dark,"
And my spouse too—
"Come home soon
You get too late
I beseech fate."

I walked
My steps pierced darkness
Tip … Tap …
Neck turned down
Lost in thought.

Suddenly startled
A deer ran across the path
A thud
I saw a clump
A dead bird's chick.

I shuddered
Stilled
Out of my fast steps.

Then slowly
Seeking solace
In the ill light
Of distant lamp-posts
I scampered away
Mouse-like
From one hole to another.

Between fear and food
A man-sized mouse
Returned
As he had left.

"Oh thank God you're back!"
My spouse ashen faced waiting
My mom celebrating—
"You're back, son!
It's too late to be out
These times
We live in."

Ma! Terror reigns
In each corner
Every criminal
Has armed himself
Using the name of Allah
Or if not that
Freedom
Or better still
Revolution.

And I am
A mere man
A little man
What power do I hold
When the power-holders
Are terrorized?

Now morning or night
Shade or sunlight
Village or city height
Old man or new bride
We are in the same boat
Our heart is in our throat.

Ma! There is no danger now
No safety either
No bandage and no wound
What cause for fear?

When someone comes – they will come
And if not – then not
What will happen – so be it
Insha'allah, all will be well.

When morning dawns
Waking I will wake
And if not – you know
'Tis the time of terror
The march of mayhem

What power do I hold
When the power-holders
Are terrorized?

And I am
A mere man
A little man
What matters of me
What matters.