Poem : Girl Under The Table

She lives at the border between them,

a place that is the outskirts of both of them.

A place that is ignored and yet crucial,

for it is the battle ground for the two nations.

She is sitting under a table, crouched,

waiting for the surroundings to quiten.

She is holding a cross in her hand tightly,

mumbling something that no one can hear.

She is waiting for her parents who went for food,

maybe she is praying for their safe return.

And this is what war zone creates,

amidst all the glory that the world claims;

a trail of the dead, and the living paralysed with fear.

She survived, as a war orphan, and left the place,

only to see another world, that went on,

the place that was far from all the horrors,

where everything was normal, too normal.

She heard people talking, about power,

about how their nation defeated the other one,

and how they are not afraid of them.

And she wondered if they actually know,

what it's like to be hiding under that table,

not knowing that parents will ever return,

and spending years trying to find closure.

She wondered if they knew what's hunger,

spending days in search of a loaf of bread,

and failing in the quest, multiple times,

resulting in endless nights of empty stomachs.

She tried, a lot of times, to leave it all behind,

to come out from under that table,

and become a part of this carefree world.

But she just couldn't do it.

That girl under the table, that was her;

not this girl in a busy nine to five.

Her nightmares that woke her up abruptly;

that was her, and not the beautiful dream of a simple life.

                            -Sushant Kumar Das