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RHYME FOR A REASON
Subhash Puri
He was one of the countless
Slum children, in his
Bare brown tanned body
Playing with a broken mirror
In a deserted plot,
His mother was busy in a
Makeshift hut nearby
The child saw himself
In the mirror and made
Faces, unmindful of
Who watched him.
He looked like a picture
Of the laughing Buddha.
Suddenly he felt
Like falling on the ground
With the mirror held firmly
In his hands
The broken mirror’s
Sharp edge cut his hand
He started bleeding profusely
Few drops of his blood
Fell on the broken mirror
That lay in the dust
His cries became louder
His mother’s blasé
Voice came from the hut
“Munna, come inside”
I saw Buddha in acute
Pain and tears.
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