The cables tied,
Like a death invitation from the picnic,
The rope with which
Corrupt and malicious,
Played the game of death.
The hoodlums jumped along the hanging bridge,
With a half-shut mind lost sideways,
As the bridge overloaded fast,
The cables pave the way for the picnic-going thugs,
The guiltless is in his place and the guilty is in his place.
Thousands were left behind wailing and mourning;
The wounded and dead moving on pushing wheels,
At last to the sickbay or crematorium,
However, gusty divers diving for the ill-fated,
Around the bodies to save lives.
Death laid its unkindest ambush,
None will ever hug as they had in the arms of dear ones,
Away from the day, through it,
Death emerged with the broken ropes,
In the deep waters of river Machhu.
Dejected! I do not shout at your oaths nor mock you;
I read it and shed some tears,
There I want to make people sane,
There I wish to invent a new alphabet,
Of active breath and life.
