A man who met Maria

In my last update of this blog, I posted a poem called “Maria.” I pictured Maria as a victim of a society which is economically inefficient and politically anarchic; a synonym of such society is Manipur, my homeland. Her father, an ordinary poor man, was sick of his life and wanted to revolt against the suck system which eventually cost his life. Maria was left alone. She found no reason to live.
Her mother and siblings were not mentioned in the Poem so far.

A friend whom I came across through Orkut wrote to me a poem in reply to Maria:

I met Maria, once
By the bridge on Imphal river.
Under the open autumn sky.

She had thousand questions in her eyes
and I had answers to none...
Who perhaps killed her father?

He was a nice man,
I knew him well...
And we often used to sit together
Trying to understand each other...

I do not know how much he understood me,
But sure I was..
He was like me
a human with a heart...

He was killed,
Stuck between distrust and hatred;
Of men in olive green
Men with red rhetoric

But what I should tell Maria,
Was it me or her
Who bore the burden of her death…?

Me ..
I was his Faith in olive green
And she
His hope in red revolution.

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