By Sandeep Roy
She has now stopped screaming,
deep breathing is going on.
Sweat drops from her forehead,
She holds in her arm the delivery just delivered.
The desk has broken the regularity,
The bench has moved far.
Sheet from the notebook has beset the floor,
For the break the school has closed down.
The road is littered with stone and slipper,
Men in uniform have cordoned the site.
Bloodstain cover the road in many a place,
The protest for now is over.
The band suddenly stops playing
Popped rice spread on the floor.
Every eye looking towards the same direction drops tear,
The bride has left her mother’s home.
The noise is now silent,
The air enveloped in smoke.
Tiny pieces of paper play with the wind,
The festival has come to its close.
The message is re-read every few hour,
Waiting for the phone to ring.
The head knows the relation will never be the same again,
The heart denies accepting that she is gone.
A heap of ash is left behind,
The place where he once slept.
He was a good soul said everyone leaving the place,
After death this is all what is left.
Poet Sandeep Roy
is also the author of
a novel called
'The Scooter engine rocket'