The Riot.. The Tree And The Mothers

By Dr. Santosh Biswal

In the midst of the market place

Stand a tree adorned with thorny grace

Sheltering upon it a pigeon with white feather

And below a vendor with his mother…

Both families quite unknown to each other

Have knitted dreams similar altogether

Dreams of rising suns, raising sons, raising

Their standards of living, from nest to hearth

For there is a tomorrow coming…

A tomorrow, that needs today’s sorrows to be forgotten and limbs

Delved in deep and strenuous work

Mother atop spends a sleepless night

For her eggs to hatch and the future to whelp outside

The mother below grasps the window railings

Dreaming of her son’s marriage

Pain and gain and pain again… all in tandem

A huge bang shattered the market place

Cracked the egg the mother pigeon held

well up in space

Swarms of crowd from East and West

Flocked for violence in moods of bitter unrest

Oh! Alas! A riot has broken in town!!

Has it ? Has it ?

Jumping in madness in hunger of blood

The madding crowd stabbing one another

Through spine, lungs , hearts and liver

All existence and death boiling down

to one imprecise blood spewing artery slashing stab

or many maddened ones…

The blood thirsty crowd gleefully sets fire

to that tree standing in grace, robbing the market of its presence

that tree sheltering the pigeon atop and below the vendor ,

life, living , existence drained of its blood…alive no more…

Burnt were the dreams of both mothers

Of the rising sun and coming tomorrow

Dreams of both were set to flames forever

Mothers of deceased wallowed in sorrow,

Shedding tears to flood the waters of any mighty river…

Chick's atop roasted to ashes

Below the vendor dead among masses

Moved the mothers out in pain

Asking…Chirping…hither thither just in vein

Asking … demanding…crestfallen…sorrow ridden

"What have their children done,

To lie dead among many unknown "

By Dr. Santosh Biswal