I Heard Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

I heard the cry of a baby.
It was thrown away into the dustbin-
a flower was lying on the dust:
people were placing shoes over it while walk
but I took it in my arms.
It was a baby girl.

She might be a product of wild enjoyment.
The mother had done the job of 'Kunti',
or the father never wanted her presence-
he played the sophisticated role of a male dominant society,
or she was kidnapped and thrown away
due to some family problems.

I took it in my arms, nursed it,
the next day I submitted her to sister Nirmala.

The dustbin now smiles at me-
it is a place for garbage, not plucked flowers.