Maria's Daddy

Soon Maria became a medium in which we have our conversation about poverty, revolution. Yes indeed it has become a bed time story. But it does not stop haunting me.

Maria a name of my poetry came out in real and made me sleepless many nights.

Never a character in my poems so far existed in mind. Perhaps it is the first character i have and it will remain forever haunting me and hovering in my poetry land.

She was a synonym to revolution, a revolution next to impossible. Being a girl left her with no chances to fight back against the people who took her daddy’s life.

She was lost in her thoughts of getting her grip on the neck of her enemies...........

I am lost too..... Maria, just like you

Maria's daddy could be you
Who hated his empty stomach
Whose eyes were fixed to the rainbows
That never set its shadow on earth

He admired the Olive green
Just for the respect they got
They neither protected him from bullets
Nor from the sunny days and rain of summers

Maria a name of a song
You could hum on any journey
Like any newspaper wrapped sweets
It was sweet to look at and lovely to hear
But the red eyes you and i never felt
Cos it burns
We do not wanna get burnt

Her daddy got burnt
He was not confused
Yes he hated everyone
Except the blade of the plough he used
That too cut him into pieces at the end

There is no red revolution left
Everything seems wild and out of hand
Maria has gone wild too
She is longing for another dawn
To steer the day in her ways...