Hanging in the gallery were those paintings
They saw a mirthful girl, with wavy silky hair
playing with the wind as she was marching ahead,
I could see the fear of femicide in her eyes
entrenched since before she was even born.
They saw a boy playing in park
trying to jump to catch a ball,
I could see the weight of expectations
loaded on his back pulling him down.
They saw leafless trees in barren region
standing timidly as silhouette,
I could see the hope of spring
on the those skinny branches.
They saw the resplendent scattered light of
glorious morning sun from undulating river water,
I could see the bitter and sanguinary thoughts
hatched in the darkness before dawn.
They saw a perennial tree by the side
of a small hut and a old man sitting on ground,
I could see his wife sitting inside that hutch
beside broken utensils and cold stove.
-Chanchal Prakasham
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