with the prosthetic was his leg in constant fight.
Screws and the metal rings tried to poke through his flesh,
Every time he took a step, he felt if his wounds were still fresh.
He inched forward, with sweaty hands, a sigh and a moan,
The road seemed more rough, much longer and grown.
He rested for a while, but he was afraid to close his eyes,
If he did so, all he saw was a shoe dipped in blood red dyes.
Not long ago, when he used to walk really fine,
He had been to market, for a ring for his mother of gold with a shine.
Right then from his right, he was struck with intense pulse of light,
Followed by an explosion, flying metal, torn clothes then entered his sight.
Never-heard cries, never-seen sight, a scent which he never had to smell,
Just then something hit his leg, a blade or may be a peg, with eyes closed to the ground he fell.
Wobbling sounds of ambulance, woke him from his sleep,
He felt pain near his leg, very acute and surely deep.
Opening his eyes, all he saw was, blood filled jean with a shoe half burnt,
Familiar though, it took little time for him to accept that its his leg that lay in front.
He sighed again and tried to take a step, and when he was about to fall,
Someone caught him by his arms, fair and handsome, but not very tall.
"I'd Love to help you" He said raising and marking his face with a smile,
"Thanks a lot" said he and stopped, but his heart continued to thank him to length of nile.
As they crossed the road, they shared equally uninterrupted silence,
To brake the same, the hurt said "Bastards! Muslims ! I lost my leg to their violence!"
The other smiled and said "To heal this world, we need to infect it with love",
"Every human has this answer, and they blindly search it in flying white dove".
The limp lost the balance and landed his crutch on the helper's feet,
Helper didn't cry, neither did he shout, he looked back with a smile so sweet.
"It's fake! I lost mine in last blast, It'll take time for your wound to heal",
"I'll pray in god that he helps you, as I too am aware of that feel".
He turned and started walking away, while azan* began in a mosque not so distant,
He wasn't out of sight, when he took out a topi and wore it on head in an instant.
The azan went on and it mixed with worldly noises,
He walked further and farther and disappeared in different, yet familiar crowd of faces.
*azan : prayer call for muslims
Submitted By: Sameer.A.M VII CS, SJCE Mysore
