Saturday, July 13, 2013

Secret withheld

Butterflies are smug.  
Fighter jets resting on a carrier.
I disturb their stupor 
Kill them all 
by simple teasing 
They are followed 
by ants 
and a swarm of flies
tempted first 
to the scattered jaggery. 
Insects were my first victims. 

Many summers later 
when I thought 
I am a grown up
They sent a young beetle after me.
A suicide bomber packed up
brain washed and all that.
He entered my ear
in a protective gear.
Chewed on the insides 
like a withheld secret. 
Hot oil and water jets 
didn't matter to  him. 
He was on a deep sea mission. 

The whole village was awake
with the screams that night. 
And its ear still rings
of the lore 
of such and such a boy.