The Third World War - A Tribute to Bombay

A tribute to all those who were killed in the Bombay encounters. We salute the spirit of the city, and its daredevilry in combatting terrorism.

It was a beautiful winter morning, to enjoy the sunset at the beach,
On one side, the modern city, and on the other, nature’s beauty.
Among those enjoying, was a child, making sandcastles; his brother with him to teach,
And then, in moments, the scenario changed, and turned into calamity….

Blasts and smoke filled the air as buildings were bombarded,
People running everywhere, as if in frenzy… as if mentally retarded…
Houses collapsed, one after the other, crumbling into pieces and dust,
The city was in mayhem, due to some inhuman people who were dying of blood thirst….

The child was laughing at the scene, but he’s small, what can he understand?
To him, the people’s cries were like a song he wanted encore….
But then, he spotted tears in his brother’s eyes. He asked, “What happened?”
Amid tears of pain and agony, he said, “Our parents are no more…”

A little while later, the firing stopped. Police and army men came.
They were men with real guns and bombs, whose tales their mother had told
They fired at people firing at them, and helped all those injured lame…
Both brothers were scared, seeing no hope of life, but still remained bold.

They were scared to move around, fearing that they might lose their life,
Searched desperately for help, but in vain, so they decided to hide.
As they walked through the city’s ruins and debris, amid strife,
Tears filled their eyes as they rummaged their way, without any guide.


Brother the elder kept a rod for safety. Suddenly they heard gunshot.
A milkman in front of them was shot, by a man who was strangely clad.
An old man came to help the milkman…Alas! He was hit by a headshot
And as they lay spending their last moments, a black van arrived.

Commandos came out of the van, and shot upwards….
Thud! A strangely clad man fell, his gun fell after him.
After they left, the elder took the gun; kept it with him just in case….
And in the next moment, the younger bro was seized by another like him.

It was a terrorist. The brother shouted. BANG!! BANG!!! Two shots were fired…
On one side… the terrorist holding him fell, blood stained the way…
While on the other… the elder’s eyes were filed with blood… he, too was dead.
And a black commando came and took the younger brother away… away…

As he sat in the lonely room, surrounded by instruments,
He peeked at the TV, and saw, that the situation is the same elsewhere…
“The third world war is here” were the news statements,
But whatever he had experienced will never be anywhere….

* * * * *

Years later, the war has ended, the world has recovered--- this we can only imagine,
But the grandeur that was there earlier will never be the same as before.
Barren lands, destroyed houses, burnt poles and roofs of brick and tin,
Still lie around, the clearing of which, isn’t an easy chore.

The child is no more, he’s now a man; one of the few who survived the war.
Life was never easy. Hard work helped him settle down in society.
He lives a secure, safe life with family, but those days gone by will never comeback.
He’s lost everything… friends, childhood, leisure, family….

As he sits on a winter morning, remembering that day of bad,
His child comes to him and says, “Brother is asleep…. There is no one to play with me… ”
And then notices tears in her dad’s eyes, and asks, “Dad, what happened?”
“Nothing, child,” comes the reply, “I’m just worried about your mommy”.

His words are not just for consolation; he really means it.
“Hope she’s safe, she’s everything I have”, he thinks.
As he sits down to write his diary, he turns back to all those pages,
Searching for traces…. For answers to questions, pictures and links…

And he writes: “People are so inhuman… they like to see fear.
The same way seeing scared people is a joke for a child,
They have no conscience; just kill even those who are dear…
Who knows where they come from? Civilization or the wild?

Why is the world so mean? Why are we killing each other?
Don’t we have a right to live? What is to be gained from killing each other?”
Is Melanie safe right now? He asks himself. Just then, his wife enters, safe.
“I’m back”, she says, much to his relief, “Thank God you’re safe”…

She gives him a tight hug and they go to bed.
And then, he thinks, at least I have this question answered….
And he sleeps…while on his desk, his diary lies open,
To show the world the questions, which still remain unanswered….

Let's forget all our differences and join hands together to combat this global threat.