Little Coffins…

She woke up to a mind numbing pain in her left arm. She didn’t know what was going on as it was really dark. The only light she could see was a few street lights that were still working. She tried to move but the pain was unbearable, so she lay there thinking when it struck her. The screaming, the mortar, her mom trying to shield her brother in arms, she trying to hide under the bed. Before they could realize the apartment came crashing down from the blast. Her hand was hurting but she had to move, to find her parents and her brother. So she gathered all her courage and pulled her hand.It was under rubbles and hence the pain. She was scared that maybe it’s broken, she needed her mom to check it. She got up and tried keeping her left hand as still as possible. When she supported it, she could feel something wet but was unable to see. She knew her mom could fix this, so she had to search her. She thought her mother would be somewhere safe with her brother and searching for her. So she started moving around the rubble calling her name. She couldn’t see anyone around. It was really late as per her knowledge; she just needed her mother to fix her arm so she could sleep some more. She heard something familiar, it wasn’t far away from where she was. It was her mom’s phone ringing.

She tried to listen carefully and track the location, she stumbled on the rubble twice and bruised her knee a little. She carefully traced the phone and found it to be under the rubble. She tried to clear it out but it was impossible for her little hands. She slowly peeked through and what she saw made her blood go cold. Her mother lied in a pool blood with her head cracked open. She could only see that in the light of the phone ringing near her face soaked in blood. Her face turned pale, she made many futile attempts to get to her mother but nothing was gonna work. She sat there crying heavily. She thought about how her father was killed in a crossfire between the rebels and army. Her mom had assured her that she won’t ever leave her. She had done everything her mom had asked her. She didn’t go out a lot, not even to school from past six months. All she did was help her mother in house chores and sit at the window watching various armored vehicles cross. She loved playing with dolls but her mother couldn’t afford to buy one. She never complained she was a good girl as the society calls them. Then why was all this happening to her?

She didn’t know how long was she sitting and crying, but now she was thirsty. She looked around but couldn’t find water. She didn’t wanna leave but she was really scared sitting there all alone. Maybe she could ask someone for help and maybe some water. She slowly gathered herself, her arm still hurt like hell, but something hurt much worse inside her. She tried to have one more look at her dead mother but there wasn’t enough light. The phone had stopped ringing a long time back. She slowly made her way through the rubble on the street. She knew the store on the corner where her mother used to shop. Maybe she can get some water there. She slowly made her way there holding her left arm. As she neared the corner, she felt a jolt of hope which didn’t stay long. The shop was completely destroyed all the stuff were looted by the rebels for their reserve. She still tried to search for some water to quench her ever-growing thirst. Before she could finish that she heard some men coming towards her. She quickly hid behind the ruins. Her mom had told her to always hide when she saw men on the street. She wanted to ask them for help but they had guns and she was really scared.

While she waited for them to go away, she saw a bottle of water lying to her right. Her thirst was unbearable so she tried to sneak out and get it. But as soon as she got the bottle one of the boys spotted her. She pointed her gun at her and asked her to come to them. She stood there more scared than ever peeing in her clothes. The boy screamed on which she flinched and started moving towards them. She held that bottle close and just wanted to get a sip as soon as possible. As she reached in front of those boys, she hid the bottle behind her back. One of the guys asked her what she was hiding. She nodded saying nothing. One of the guys sneaked behind her and snatched that bottle. She screamed in pain as her left hand oozed more blood. They were four guys and she was a scared little girl. One of them asked where were her parents and she pointed to the rubble. They started laughing while tears rolled down from her eyes. Through her blurry eyes, she kept looking at the bottle of water just wanting to get a sip. The guy holding the bottle asked her if she wanted some water. She nodded greedily trying to force a smile. He told her to touch the street light right behind her and come as fast as possible, then she can have the entire bottle. She did not have a choice, she wanted water more than ever. So she ran like it was the only thing that could save her life. She saw the pole nearing and a hint of a smile broke on her dirty tear soaked face. She put her right hand forward seeing her goal coming nearer. And then she heard a sound she never forgot. It was the same sound that she had heard before her father lay motionless on the street. She turned around and saw one of the guys pointing the gun right at her. The guys were shouting, ‘shoot’. And before she could do anything the gun roared again. And this time she felt a searing pain in her chest. When she touched it, she felt blood oozing uncontrollably and she fell face down. Her tear-soaked eyes kept watching the bottle in that boy’s hand as they shut forever.

What is this? Why is this? Who is this for? Which god told you that it is okay to kill innocent children for your personal gains? And if a god did, it’s time you find a new one. Because, the god you claim to be protecting, says serving water to a thirsty child is the greatest prayer you can offer. And if we don’t stop, the earth will crack from the weight of these little coffins soon.

-thewanderingwriter aka Sagar Singh

What we lost…

Another day just started,
And rather than waking up to my mama’s kisses,

I wake up to gun fires and blasts.

As my parents try to wrap things up;

Have you tried it?

To wrap your entire life in a small bag,

Wrap the memories you make,

The suppers you shared.

Because if you did you’ll know the pain I see in their eyes.

We run, like criminals.

Are we, or did you all make us?

What’s our crime?

That we are different, or we didn’t know our place?

You must have been a 5-year-old kid, 

Is this how you woke up? Then why us?

As the bullets nearly miss us, as we go days without proper food;

You pray to a God,

A God that I don’t think even exists.

Because if he did, he’ll tell what’s right and wrong;

But who cares about right and wrong, 

It’s all about power, money, and greed, isn’t it?

That makes you animals, and even they know when to stop,

But you won’t.

And as blood oozes out my head rather than my mama’s kiss,

Know this,

If there’s a god, I am gonna tell him what you all did.
-thewanderingwriter