There was red on the sidewalk:
They told me it was paint.
A little girl on her way to school
Had spilled it on the ground.
I pointed to the middle of the road,
To broken pieces of glass.
A toy must have been thrown outside,
and a car run over it.
That smashed tiffin box of a little kid?
I looked up, they were glum.
My dad was carried away
His arms and legs were torn.
Wailing white vehicles, flashing
red lights; weeping around.
It's all part of the drama, they said,
We enact in our lives.
Why is there a crowd? I asked,
They came to see the fun.
Can I see my Dad again?
My tears gave no reply.
When I was born I had eyes
I grew up to be blind.
Little kids I played with,
Each became one of them.
I closed my ears to the distant sounds
And heard nothing, no more.
The smells I lost over the years
when I became a woman.
They told me it was part of it,
The price of growing up.
The child was dead: and never shall rise,
A victim of mercy killing.
Very touching!
ReplyDeleteVery deep... and dark
ReplyDeletewow..really touchy....
ReplyDeletethat was too intense! loved the way its written.
ReplyDeletethe book mentioned in the left sidebar; where do I buy that in bangalore?
Monali, Nari, SUB: thanks a lot.
ReplyDeleteSawan: Thanks for your interest, the book is available at Landmark, Forum Mall and Jayanagar.
wow. simple lines. but powerful.
ReplyDeleteWonderfully written Jean... I liked the way you narrated the incident from a child's point of view... It's simplicity makes it all the more beautiful :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Naseef, thebrokennib...
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful in its intensity.. Nicely said.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Leo.
ReplyDelete