I, a little girl,
innocent, ignorant 5 years old.
Moving amidst throng of people,
where each face is sad and feeble.
The ambience so grievous,
tells something very serious.
Far in the distance,
I see a figure, paler than any,
breaking the silence by wailing, lost to her destiny.
The figure is my mother,
to who I go and murmur.
Listening me, she takes me in her arms,
sobbing all the more,
when I, ignorant of her plight,
utter words with twinkling eyes.
Mumma, I want a toffee,
while sitting next to my father's dead body.
