His Mother's Son

Little boy Shamu, had a dirty little friend.
A leg less doll from the dingy mud swell.
It was his for the find, in the garbage dumb,
Covered with filth n grime n sewerage mud.

He cleaned it till he could see its eyes,
Weaved her a dress from red polyvinyl.
He named it Radha, for the mother unknown.
A name he thought was of her from lore.

Each night they slept together in the park,
And cuddle in fear with every dogs bark.
In moment like these, a healing touch,
And courage, she lent him and will to last.

In Shamu’s world there were some rules,
No love, no faith, no happiness worth.
His fate was a bundle of pain and hurt,
His fortune was crafted by an evil at work.

It rained that day, a cry from the Gods.
When two slum rowdies saw the red doll.
They snatched it free from his fist, that night,
And tossed it around for Shamu’s plight.

He did what he could to save his pride.
Blow after blow with courage he did fight.
They beat him blue and got bored to soon.
Threw Radha in the gutter with loathsome woe.

No living love to live for, but Radha’s smile.
He jumped for the call of his mother’s life
The current, too strong on that rainy night
Laid them to sleep, away from pain, that’s right!

©Apuarv Sethi