Hiroshima Poem by Rajendra Nagdev

One morning million suns rained from sky
enormous glow
then deepest darkness

A mangled clock in a barber's shop got stuck in time
a time no one would ever dream
of returning in the planet's life'
the clock escaped evaporation
to narrate the tale of human blunder
hovered on that fateful moment over a city.

A blackened lunch box of a child,
a pair of labor's shoes
a bunch of keys in metal chain
a flower pot void of scent and the day break delight.

In this show eyes are blind
heart turns into eyes.

A frightening drama was played on the stage of devastation,
I seean invisible baby
I hear her cries lost in oblivion decades ago
I watch grandpas and grandmas
drowned in the turbulent sea of helplessness,
youths lying in lifeless bodies.

The dead are burned
the dead are maimed
the dead are... alive
their voices resound
listen to them, the speak.

Gloves of twelve summer old boy
labor at a building site
lie forlorn,
the boy was awake through the night
on the wall of a bridge
lest volunteers would dump him
in the dead men's wagon and drive away
his wisdom lasted a few hours
the soul departed with sunrise.

A small lunch box of a KG child
its lid blown off
is waiting for ever untraced master,
uneaten rice and pulse
burnt and mingled with metal,
her name scratched on it still readable.

A woman carrying kettle in hand
an infant in her lap,
a frightening sculpture in charcoal.

Shoes worn sometime by teenage master
forcefully separated from the swollen feet
harbour futile hope of his return
from unidirectional voyage to eternity.

Look those shiny motionless marbles on the floor
they used to play with their companion- a second grade learner
the still retain shine
- a scant hope in hopelessness.

A shadow on steps
an evaporated man's departing gift.

Objects silently wait for masters,
a long wait till another dooms day
when the too will evaporate
and dissolve in nothingness.

I'm burning in a distant segment of the planet
countless miles away from Hiroshima
I'm burning decades away
from that still moment in the barber's clock.

In my town
I am burning in Hiroshima,
in the show
I stand face to face of salvaged remnants
I read a long poem of extreme sadness.

I am in search of you Lord Buddha!
you had smiled in *Pokharan
can you smile
over a tiny lunch box
a pair of shoes
a dented tea pot
a girl's purple frock
a denture fell out of a wrinkled face
and can you smile Buddha!
over charred twisted limbs
of the dead and waiting-to-die humans? I wonder!

Buddha! I see you weeping silently
I see tears rolling down your cheeks
I pray the tears wipe off fire of war
from my lovely planet forever, forever.
.........................

*A place where India's first Nuclear Bomb Test was conducted. The code word of its success was 'Buddha Has Smiled'