They were sobbing.. Fear writ all over their faces Clung on to her hands They don't want to go back Luxury they didn't want The shelter was their solace They loved this place There lived a demon and a demoness Who ruined their childhood They were merely four Yet life seemed dreadful! Showpieces they were for the society Care, love and affection were just exhibits Their souls were wretched and miserable They wanted to break free The shackles of bondage and terror They cried their heart out... Sometimes for hours .... Scorching sun burning their tiny bodies The hot iron burning their thighs The piercing needles piercing their backs One day life changed Someone saw their plight And decided to take the might Fought for their right And gave the tormentors tight Social prestige down the drain They now rot in jail But ... The fear is still intact The future as unpredictable as before They have a home Which isn't a home. They still feel it is a safe haven! Atleast ...
As I try to sleep in the comforts of the airconditioner I reminiscence the good old days, Days when the sultry summer nights would be so different. Our villa like house on the foothills of the great Nilachal was very spacious and had ample fruit bearing trees along with different varients of the hibiscus- a typical Bengali household who worships Goddess Kali. The darkness on a night when electricity would be gone for hours and we would be sitting outside our houses. Me scared to hell of ghosts, leopards or snakes venturing in the darkness.. Would always carry the biggest torchlight and a stick. I remember how all four of us - My parents and my brother including me would watch the fireflies and listen to the sounds of some wild insects. Dad and Mom would share stories of their childhood, of our grandparents, their hardwork and struggles, of the Indo- China war when they were kids. The Assam Agitation, the struggle and success stories of their job hunts and so more. Mom ...
You are gone! Far even before I could imagine... Just one moment you were in my arms We both wading through the knee deep water.... We talking of the tenga masor anja... And the next moment you are gone... Disappeared, slipping out of my hands... Before I could recollect anything.... You were just washed away!!! Wailing, screaming, pleading, hoping that I your father would save you. ... But I so helpless... Desperately hunting every drain... Searching for you ...day and night... Madness overpowered me... I could think of nothing my son... Three days later... I hold you back in my arms... This time wrapping in a white shroud... I wail, I wail and I wail... I don't know how I shall survive without you... My son...!!!
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