- Aman Shyamsukha
Why didn't anyone let me cry?
Father,
with all the neighborhood boys
he has gone out to play
while I am painting at home
to keep my loneliness at bay
suddenly I hear him
cry and scream at the same time.
Grasping his bruised knee,
into the house, he rushes
frozen with horror, I scream for help,
while in thick droplets,
his scarlet blood pours
Mother,
you are in the kitchen,
making a dish for a guest,
you run to us with an apron
tied around your waist
"They slapped me hard
then they pushed me to the wall,
they spat on me
and they called me dumb,
they ridiculed at me
like I'm a clown,
I tried
but I fell down."
'Boys don't cry, child,
it will be fine,
now, don't you throw a tantrum,
there's no reason for you to whine.'
Uncle,
his tiny body trembles
from the pain
but he helplessly tries to protect
his boyhood from any stain.
Wiping his face dry,
not a word does he utter;
over the years,
he grows quieter and quieter.
And I wonder why
he never lets out a cry.
I wonder why
he never ever lets out a cry.
"unexpressed emotions never die,
they're all buried alive with a sigh,
they will come forth later
in ways that are uglier"
Mother,
while standing at the edge
of the terrace,
and then freed
from this worldly maze,
he lies on the cemented road,
motionless.
I watch them cover his body
in a pale white sheet
burn it into ashes
of ghostly grey hue,
amidst a pile of wood
and flames of fire,
you tell them,
"He must have tripped and fallen down."
Mother, you are a terrible liar.
Father,
the streets these nights,
they all lie dead,
they look like rivers
devoured by a flood,
a flood that screamed in silence,
a flood whom you, Father,
with your own bare hands,
did drown and smother.
Mother,
before the flood
before goodbye,
it had whispered,
"The first time I fell down,
why didn't anyone let me cry?"
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