A pelted stone thuds on my decaying vest,
As I turn around hopelessly I see a cacophony of misdirection, nurtured on a puerile countenance.
How do I get in their way?
In a dull-witted jitter I turn back.
Perhaps they want to trod upon us to get to something better,
But behind me were only more decaying vests and drowning wills, with faces stained in shades of injustice and a regret in its aggression of conduct.
No.
There was no nirvana for these deserted wanderers.
There was just us,
and many more,
That was it.
We were the enemies, unknowingly.
In their veils of spiteful dictations, they couldn’t fathom what our raised hands meant,
Our heads bowing in despondence translated to a nonchalant mockery.
So hurled we were, with stones and abuses, and the righteousness of faith, who often makes humanity it’s peasant.
If I could stop the war, I would.
But my helmet wasn’t the last one in the pile of daunt,
So enraged or confused, braced I was, to aid their freedom.
Their prospensity for prosperity, which came through in violence.
Perhaps the worst tremor that jolted within me was with the knowledge of how this day ends,
The juvenile delinquent in the front seething with a firearm, I could almost see the destined hole between his brows.
The standing lines of little children, gaping from the balconies, embracing the scars this hour would give.
Yet now I wonder why I do this,
Destruct and debilitate, all for a diplomat’s savour.
I looked beyond the fury,
And except the hills that backed this small Mall road,
I could only see glares of my infant toddler, cocconed in her mother’s warmth.
My propensity for my prosperity,
Broken asunder by this demographic futility.
I understand,
The charm, the deliverance they see beyond me,
Not a point to be made, or an ego to be shrouded, or even a religion to be defended.
It’s agony, reaching out,
To the glares they see,
To their fathers and sons, who disappeared,
Aching to hold their hands,
Writhing to resurrect the fading memory of their will.
And I know I am all, that gets in the way,
I am what will always get in the way.
Written by Sidhant Tomer for MTTN
Featured Artwork by Shashank Tomer for MTTN
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