By Anshul Kumar Pandey:
And he stood there
with his hair dishevelled,
his breath heavy,
his big eyes, watchful
but not watery
observing
as they tore down his village
burnt the houses
demolished the mosque
raped the women
and butchered them,
stole the lives,
out of his friends
and trampled on their
dead bodies
rejoicing revenge.
But he is a grown up now,
and he sees a village
a temple,
some women
quite beautiful, but not as much
as the ones of his village were
but there is no calm, no love
in his big eyes
which are, instead
filled with anger, vengeance
bitter memories
as he enters the village,
with other men
and as another child,
watches from a distance.