Wednesday, August 19, 2009

On A Mound of A Rubble Dead Hopes Lie

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what once was a house
a home a factory
a shop
now a graveyard
on a mound of a rubble
where dead hopes lie
as heavy rains
like thunderbolts
fall from the sky
on the soul of
Beharampada
an embittered cry
a hand
at the mercy
of a cup of chai
no schoolbooks
no school uniform
no time for padhai
the moon of ramzan
lets out a sigh
rozas sairi iftiari
as time passes by
the fear of swine flu
with prayers defy
isolated behrampada
also a part of mumbai
molten tears
on shriveled cheeks dry
threatened survival
where fate has
become
the lord of the flies

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