In Memory Of Ananya Poem by Afshan Fatima

At age three, he was playing
and wondering
at the beauties of the world.
As it was a festival of lights,
his house was illumined thoroughly.
It was his happiest day.
The house bedecked with tiny lights
was capturing his attention.
Sweet fragrance of delicacies
was luring him to taste them.
He seemed to be in love with his new attire.
Everything and every moment was beautiful that day.
The only heir, their heartthrob
found a matchbox and hid it
in his pocket
and headed upstairs
where he took out a matchstick
and lit it fascinatingly
but his tiny heart
could not stay calm.
Fear pushed him into a hot water bucket.
He shrieked but could not get out.
Blisters of his body did not let him live
more than three days.
That Diwali was the last
‘festival of lights’ for them.
They never tried to burn anything
after his pyre.
and gloom encompassed them forever…