Amrita Valan

I am a housewife from India, mother of two boys, aged 12 and 11.

I have a master’s degree in English literature.

Till my boys were born I worked in various sectors of BPOs as motor claims and health insurance handler and was also content writer for simulation management entrance examination papers in the field of deductive logic and reasoning in English.

I have also worked for a short term in the hospitality industry as a receptionist at a five-star hotel, while awaiting results of my English honours examination.

 I love life, like tumbling headfirst into it, and then doing a double take to step back and observe it.

I have written over a thousand poems on genres including, Love, Spirituality, Family, Religion, Current affairs, Human Rights, short stories, humorous pieces, essays as well as funny poems and tales for my children.

I love collecting rocks on my day trips to hills, photographing nature and natural moods. Indulge in taking selfies and decorating them with punk art.

Teaching my children how to tell jokes with a dead pan face for maximum impact.

War Chest

War keeps wounds open
 Healing is unprofitable.
We forget 
Peace is a calling,
A mission.

But war is
A profession.
An industry.

War's capital is 
Civilian blood.
Its trophies
Loot and ransom
For profiteers.

Terror is not, 

Prerogative of terrorists.

All of war is.

Which war does not terrorise?

To keep fear at bay
We okay taxes.
We okay xenophobia.

We play along 
Hoping our aggression
mistaken for assertion
Will keep dear ones safe.

Purchasing arsenals 
As if 
There's a spoil by date.
The merchandise of hate
Stockpiled against fate.

Watching with horror
Our armaments. 

An arm, a leg blown away
An eyeball shattering
Blood smattering
Tanks battering.

Souls hovering over
Bodies smashed to smithereens
War's borders are
Death's gates.

See the smoke flowering grey smoke
Pennants over death's skyline.

Your ramparts won't 
Save your souls 
Or your poor smashed bodies.

Borders were meant to 
Keep out the other.
To stave invasion of

War builds borders 
To flag off

The hope chest 
of bloody trousseau
In muddied trenches.

War keeps its relics
Its provenance is

Cain pitted against Abel 
In bespoke battles.

Hellions of mischief
Warmongers co play
to end all games.

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