That tore its way through ear-drums
You missed the ferocious flash
That blinded all it touched
You couldn’t watch the steel melt
And scorch inanimate and living alike
Or see the million shards hungrily
Strip flesh from bone
But you don’t miss much, do you?
The first shrieks still echo as you arrive
The dust barely settled
Your lips twitch in mock smile
For official sirens haven’t screamed yet
There are bodies - plenty of them
Some still, others writhing
The tears have just begun to flow
And the lighting perfect
"Breaking news!" your mind repeats.
So off goes the lens-cap
Your trained eye zooming into
Just the right picture
A little fire, a little smoke
An upturned car, perhaps?
Concrete rubble, disowned slippers
Blood strewn on vinyl floor
A gory corpse or two
And an abandoned little school-bag
"Damn you!" you sigh, as onlookers arrive.
The scene livens up
As reality begins to implode
Slapping the stupor out of life
Bringing it to face
the grim spectre of death
The anxious eyes that rummage
Through broken glass and twisted frame
The pitiful wails, the horrified looks
Some devastated beyond expression
"How do you feel?" you ask, quite seriously.
The cops and medicos arrive
Quite an interruption, really
Cordoning off the best areas
And whisking subjects out of sight
Not to be outdone, you follow
The dazed man on the stretcher
No harm in a few more sound-bites
After all, he can always recoup later
"What happened here?" you ask of him.
Ah, the voice of the common man
Tinged with drama and emotion
A few cues here and a couple of questions there
And he describes the blast just right
A lot more faces fill the frame
Smoothing their hair, craning the necks
Calling home anxiously, saying
"Hey... I’m on TV!"
"What a day!" you exclaim, winding up.
Your eyes shine as you carefully
Stow the camera away
A promotion for boosting TRPs
And of course, an award-winning story!
And it was only because your ears
Were brimming with imminent praise
That you missed the faint voice
Which said, "Leave us alone... at least now."
© Copyright 2008 Madhulika. All rights reserved.
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