Friend or Foe???

When I get a hug from mother,
It’s the envy of my brother.

And yet when the boy next door
Picks up a fight with me,
I can always be sure
Of brother’s support, you see.

Is it then not an irony that
My neighbour and I,
Are on the same side of the net
In the inter-school tennis tie???

(The earlier day the fight we had;
We both have forgotten – I’m glad)

Who is a friend, who is the foe…
I don’t know, I don’t know.

Region and religion, they can divide or unite.
Mix and match them, you get a cultural delight.

The Punjabi just can’t stand the Madrasi,
He’d prefer to drown him in a tub of lassi
“Bengali!!!” remarks the Gujju, making a face,
“Such people don’t suit my taste.”

But when an Indian meets another on a faraway land,
It definitely calls for a celebration, grand.

Who hails from which state,
Neither they care, nor does it matter,
Watching India play cricket,
Sharing pakodas on a platter.

Who is a friend? Who is the foe?
I don’t know, I don’t know . . .

When the neighbouring country suffers,
Anyone hardly bothers.
But for emigrants to the west,
Fellow subcontinentals are like brothers.

Who is a friend? Who is the foe?
After so many years, I still don’t know.

Some are staunch patriots,
Some are dirty racists,
Some support communal harmony,
Some are plain fascists.

But wherever, whenever, for whatever we stand,
We always desert someone to shake a new hand.

Be it the world war,
Or just a game of ball,
You have to take one side,
You can’t be friends with all.

Why does a new friendship
Come at the cost of another???
Why can’t all of us
Be friends with each other???

Who is the friend and who is the foe?
The answer I bet no one will ever know!!!