|
|
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| WWII – Subtracting Rose
| |
|
| |
|
| Stolen rose in my bag. Crushed with the time. It ages ancient now. I remember that faceless hand lying on the ground holding this rose tightly. In a battle of supremacy, German army has defended this ground again. Every time this terror of bombing used to strike this place, he used to rush and watch it through that window. And it’s safe again, and beyond reach of dropped shells. And he’s happy that it’s still blooming again at backyard. His unfair effort to mature this rose has given him a name, a Subtracting Rose. Walking by the porch to the garden, everyday he sees touching hands of yesterday’s lying on the ground. Germans have left their foot prints on this black soil. He prays, if it has to be, it has to be his Home but not this Rose. There he sees her blue eyes again. Someone will remember that a gap remained in WWII. You don’t get to see disparity of this kind in any war. And I saw a beautiful war for the first time. With distant trail of noises, he could feel German war planes throwing chits on the ground, written “Goodbye on your lips”. This is the time he has been waiting for. His unfair effort has to have a meaning that moment. He plucked that rose and rushed. Running with a rose, within he still carries the roots along. Before she could establish a first contact through her eyes, he was shot! A gap remained in him and her, a gap so vast that even the fragrance of that rose could not touch her. His unfair desire has made this place an unfair war. He froze with his last expression and I didn’t have courage to turn him over. His rose lived while his Home burnt. If someone wants to see how he looked from inside, look at this, I stole it on that day.
| |
|
| |
| Please write in your comments at gagandeep@wipro.com, am not a regular user.
| |
