Mr. Siddhaarth Sudhakaran, a member of Aurora Charitable Society, writes a beautiful poem inspired by his many readings. In his words: “It’s inspired by an article I read long back about the massacre of a Kurdish village during the early stages of the civil war. An extremist section of the Syrian rebels carried it out since they were worried about the influence of the Kurdish fighters in the war. It kind of increased my disdain for the blind Western support to the rebels and the war in general. My poem is basically about a female peshmerga fighter as her village is being encircled. The identity of the attackers I chose to leave ambiguous.”
The deafening boom of the guns, I hear yonder,
Never allowing my thoughts to ever wander;
From the cries of my people, the death of our dreams.
To live as free people, is utopian it seems.
My comrades are out there defending our pride,
Outnumbered we may be, but we’ll not hide.
We shall walk free, though I know not when;
And live amongst a brotherhood of equal men.
A frail wail, so familiar pierces the dreary air,
Momentarily lifting me from the depths of despair.
Inside I rush, to pacify my petrified progeny;
To my parched ears, his cries are calming company.
Holding him to my bosom, a lullaby I sing,
Of dwarves and fairies and the fortunes they’ll bring.
Little does he know, my labour of love;
Of the impending doom, few hours from now.
O Heavens, What is that dreaded noise I hear?
Synchronized, Soulless sounds getting clear, more clear.
Interrupted they are, only by rounds of random gunfire;
The avalanche of advancing boots, they seem not to tire.
Holding my child close, I come down on my knees,
“I surrender myself to Thou , Do as You may please”
Upwards shifts my gaze in search of divine intervention,
“But let my son live long to breathe the air of liberation.’
– Siddhaarth Sudhakaran
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