110 children died
attacked by encephalitis:
young martyrs...
would you ask for votes
in their names
when the next elections
come around?
In that case,
Let me give them to you.
one was called, 'Kahani',
'Story',
and lo, how quickly
his story ended.
how sudden the end,
like an art movie
which leaves one hanging
between two parallel moments
another called Samreen,
'Fruitful'
a born helper,
evaporated in the heat
while gathering fruits...
little hands,
perfect for the job,
now, no more
Sanjeet, the Invincible,
he must have fought bravely,
to live up to his name...
him, who hardly knew life,
how could he have known
the cruelty
of death?
Anisha,
'The One Beyond Despair',
i wonder what she dreamt
and hoped
as she plucked the fruits
what did she want to become
when she grew up
Raja Babu,
'The Little Prince',
the apple of his mother's eye!
yet, his hands already coarse
from the morning chores
now lie limp by his side,
no more
waking up early:
never again
Muskaan,
with her 'Smile',
lighting the dimly-lit path
as she trudged to the orchards
in pre-dawn hour,
sleepy... a thousand
dreams still hovering
in her eyes mi-clos
Gudiya, the Doll,
loved by all,
snatched away
by a sudden squall...
and taken yonder
beyond the fangs of
poverty,
to rest in peace
Vikrant, the Brave,
always striding
ahead of everyone,
a real warrior
in the wee hours
of the morn:
bare-foot, determined,
tireless...
but, alas! his battle now over
and, how can
one forget, Khushi,
'Happiness':
it shone through his eyes,
through the uneven grin,
it was felt in the lightness
of his steps...
until he could walk no more
Shahnaz, the beauty queen,
'Royal and Stately',
like a peacock
she strutted,
like a lioness
she fended for her clan,
and like an eagle,
soared away.
all these children
and 100 or so others like them died,
gathering lychees,
(our oriental delicacy)
and devouring some,
for their own
empty stomachs rumbled
and growled,
begging for the fleshy fruit
would you like
more names?
i could give you more.
but maybe it's wiser
to wait
until next elections...
for, who would remember them?
their families, and perhaps
the forgotten files
gathering dust on the desk
of some wretched clerk
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