December 16, 2007
By Rewati Kulkarni, Abu Dhabi, ZZ

He pushed his way
He struggled, he resisted,
He bore the scorching afternoon heat,
He pursued relentlessly
For that one chnace
To touch his lord's feet.

He fell victim
To a shower of flowers,
And to lively chants and proses,
The colourful mist
That upon him settled,
Smelt of lillies and roses.

He moved in queue,
His whole self awash,
With joy and satisfaction,
He heard the bell chime
And watched the fire blaze,
But wasn't prepared for the forthcoming action.

The gunfire sounded;
He was caught unaware,
He became too feeble and was beat,
A lasting image he caught
Of the undying witness,
Before his blood stained his lord's feet.

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