Thursday, October 27, 2016

THIS NIGHT IS THEIRS



























                     













                           











                                                         



                         







                                                                     ( I )
                 
                          With eyes wide-open as if to enjoy every sight
                     In tattered clothes, their teeth with joyous grin  
                     Sparkled white in the brilliant glow of bursting crackers
                     And many-lined winking candles kept on the walls ;
                     They watched the pageant of multi-colored joys
                     Denied to them-- without a pinch of jealousy ;
                                                
                                                     ( I I )

                     The shooting crackers like dragons fly into the sky
                     Spouting widening curves of fiery flowers ;
                     A jet of light from flower-pots brightens their eyes ;
                     They shout with joy and hilariously dance with zeal
                     Gazing at the revolving rings of whirling fire ;
                     The loud report of bursting bombs rebounds at once 
                     From their joyful shouts and accolades of delight ;
                     One moment they do seem like rulers of the world
                     Unmindful of their trouble-torn existence ;
                                     
                                                   ( I I I )
                                                         
                    Their scanning eyes alight on half-burnt squibs 
                    Torn bits of wrappers and colored cones half-burnt ;
                    They grab them with swift enthusiastic pull ;
                    These children wander away from their gloomy huts
                    Their dark dungeons tucked in some remote slums ;
                    Yet festive mirth exudes from every pore of their limbs
                    From their shabby faces with disheveled hair ;
                    This night is theirs ; their burning bellies filled 
                    With doles dropped by people in charity ;
                    Tomorrow they have to return to their dreary work
                    Uncertain of earning their daily bread, to feel
                    The bite of grinding poverty, to sweat
                    Amid'st dust-ridden squalid surroundings.

                      
              Accolades of delight= a special privilege to feel delight     


   28th October, 2016                               Somaseshu Gutala




                                  

No comments:

Post a Comment