APATHY

  

The coins tinkled,
   Lying in his pocket unremembered,
   Remnants of a past outing,
   Loose change,
   An unnecessary nuisance,
   Worthless pieces of metal,
   To be left on shelves unheeded,
   Or spent on toffee or gum
   For a moment of fickle pleasure,
   Soon forgotten.
 
   * * *
 
   The coins tinkled,
   Breaking the pious silence,
   As she picked them in reverence,
   Each accompanying a murmured wish,
   "A pass mark-sheet, new set of earrings..."
   Dutifully pushing them through the slit,
   Bribes to the writers of destiny,
   Joining other coins, other wishes,
   Disappearing into the grey tin
   Before the Gods in the sanctum.
 
   * * *
 
   The coins tinkled,
   The metal digging into her palm,
   As she clutched them tightly,
   Protecting her treasure,
   To trade for a piece of bread,
   Just enough for her son,
   Watching him in silence,
   Hunger screaming within,
   As he devoured it greedily,
   His smile satiating her,
   A shining beacon in her starving night.
 
   * * *
 
   Lying useless on unheeded shelves,
   Wasted offerings to Him that wants none,
   The coins shuddered at the divide,
   The contrasting fates,
   Thinking of the stomachs that needed them,
   Thousands that lay unfed,
   And the ones who could have risen,
   Left their trivialities,
   Spared a thought for their brothers.
   The apathy left them speechless...
   The coins stopped tinkling.

~ Rahul Misra ~

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