A heart-wrenching poem by Maya.
There’s fire in the chulha
Daal simmers thereupon
She watches it intent
Screams all of a sudden as if pulled out of some trance.
“Fire! Fire!’ she rushes out of doors.
A few vessels fall onto the floor with a sound echoing for long.
The headlight of a car in the street
Dazzles her teary eyes,
She gets nervy, so perturbed that she knows not where to run next!
She hasn’t slept a wink for nights altogether,
nor is ever likely to,
Rides upon nightmares whole nights
Crackers, celebrations, deafening sounds, explosions, screams, wails, moans…is all she can see with eyes open or closed…
Some good soul holds her hand kindly
May be it’s her dear departed son
Who she saw burning to ashes near the temple…
… lost her senses forever.
He couldn’t even bear a minor burn when alive…
Would go mad with pain, rummaging through things to find Burnol.
Can celebrations play havoc?
Note: Chulha is a traditional earthen oven and daal is lentil or pulses
Pix from Net.
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