In the pouring rain, I saw a child,

With pouring eyes and tiring face

It seemed the clouds are moving slowly

So that they could glance at him with wonder

His eyes were twinkling with twinkling drops

That were rolling through his sunken cheeks

The wind that swayed at that moment

Would have shivered his little body

As I felt him as a little bud unable to gloom

I went near the boy with my anxious tongue

I saw his eyes at that time too

Pouring!!  Pouring!!  Pouring!! 

Through his sleepy eyes, I could read a tragic story

“I lost everyone… I am left alone”

Did the majestic mountain range move a little listening to his story?!

Did the brook control the ripples to listen properly?

“We were so happy with our little life..

But the War separated us all..

They killed my father and mother and little sister

They spoiled everything, and I lost my life as such

Its hunger all over, its fear all around

There is nothing left for us to live”

“Can anyone get it back that lost by these people here, can anyone help to stop this?

No one knows the fact that the war can never determine who is right, but who are left!!”

I couldn’t listen further that the grief shattered my heart

Yes, its true! People do fight for caste and creed and wealth and regions

But no matter what! Wars can never determine who is right, but who are left!!”