BABURAM

Sketch by Ankita,a student of Class VII

Wounded, crouched inward,
Eyes half closed,
A breath; an effort as difficult
as climbing up a mountain,
Unable to move,

Flight to freedom,
Crushed by a scavenger,
When asleep nestled 
in the comfort of nest,

Listless were the limbs,
Lying on a window sill,
Waiting for death,
To be relieved 
From excruciating pain,
Flowing through 
every sinew of the body,

A girl tiptoed,
Cry of dismay,
In haste is she!
Wrapped him up with cotton wool,
Drops of water into his mouth,
Ceaseless effort to keep him alive,

Sleeping hours,
Nourished with milk,
Touch that healed,
Promising safe heaven,
Opened eyes to find,

Sparkling eager eyes,
Manifesting exuberance, 
'Ma, Baburam is awake'
A song to his ears,
'Baburam, Baburam...'

A new found nest,
Yet unfamiliar,
Blinking his eyes,
To rebuff the intense light,
Humbling the darkness outside,

Three heads laughing in delight,
Tireless effort rewarded with life,
Strength he gathered day by day,
Curious eyes inspecting wise,
Every nook and corner in a trice,

Flying into the kitchen,
Cooking he verifies,
Salivating for rice,
Togetherness he cherishes,
With the family by his side,

A call so different,
Every now and then,
Expressing love, perhaps gratitude,
For the compassion,
For being unrestricted,
Privilege to talk to his mates,
While cavorting in the verandah,

Wonders, little girl!
Unthinkable is life
without Baburam,
Integral part, they believe,
Happiness prevails all the while,
Gait of Baburam is so unlike.

One fine day, Baburam leaves,
Amidst cold with infectious eye,
Breathing last in her arms,
His saviour, his Joan of Arc,
Howled and howled,
For no more will he be
pecking rice,
Flying through rooms,
Into the cage for rest some time,

Buried Baburam with tearful eyes,
Scattered flowers to bid good bye,
'Baburam, my friend, you illuminated
my life, captured you will be in my heart,
though uninhibited is my pencil sketching
you, to remain before my eyes'.