Posted By Meenu Chopra On Dec 29, 2009

Categories:

Poems for change, Human Rights,

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
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Posted By Meenu Chopra On Dec 29, 2009

Categories:

Poems for change, Human Rights,

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.