By Meena Gurung
Each one of us came to live our life
A life—the result of our debts and dues...
What you sow is what you reap,
Theory of karma can't give all the clues...
They say—terrorists sought religion,
And decided the fate with a gunshot!!!
To take all those lives mercilessly
How much of their own conscience was annihilated by that lot???
I still wonder—what's been their life?
Even when I know—the land lived the shroud of demises...
How much had they lost of themselves,
To be known as Jihad—the humanity despises...
All the world's heart is praying for the dead,
But my heart prays for them to enlighten their conscience...
I wish I could turn the wheel of time,
And nurture the moments when they could, like humans—smile...
The world might mock me for looking out for them,
Thinking I must have a soul not too humane...
But I am just a person behind some safe wall,
Living with a belief—no one's born insane...
I wish that now when a Jihadi tries to make a child Jihad,
There's someone who tucks that innocence to dream, care, and hope...
And if there's no saving left at all—
I pray that they meet their ends down that same slope...