The freedom brought many homes
It threw away many too
Out of homes;
Sushwant was only eight
When trying to escape arson
And violence , she came across most horrendous things-
A mother asking her son to drown her in a river,
A small pond having corpses floating,
A woman cutting the cord that held her new born with a stick of sugarcane;
Seventy years after Sushwant’s eyes still hurt
And salty taste comes to her lips from eyes.
The Gallery of hope: a locomotive train
In one huge single frame the locomotive train stands,
Ready to go as if,
Smoke coming out of its nose,
Soon perhaps the rumble will be heard over the tracks,
Its roof has people- thousands sitting with tired
Yet expectant looks,
Its windows have faces- innumerable.
She had come from the kingdom Dressed like a fairy,
Having a drum in her belly
To store memory
2 KB .
(*HEC2M : India’s first computer imported from U.K.)