Classroom Musings V

I was recently going through a magazine article regarding the plight of the Godhra riots survivors and the apathy they are still facing in the hands of the administration and society (more so in case of minorities).
Here's my tribute to those who have lost everything in the carnage. Again written in one of those classes where I turn schizophorenic sometimes and break away from the mundane realities of boredom. It comes a little late but nevertheless....

Revisiting Godhra

Walking down the good old lane ,

where I'd been before.
Looking at the black brick house,
standing naked like a whore.
I see no life no aged soul,
for they've all been muted.
The silence colours the courtyard grey ,
all the laughter seems diluted.
Whose fault was it I would not know,
their eyes all seem so pale.
The happiness, the joy are gone things now,
a blanket of gloom prevails.
The air seems heavy with dried up tears,
all I breathe is agony.
Whoever broke that little girl's toy,
will he ever pay for his felony?