Partition - (Historic Event: Partition of India)

Back in the days,

We shared the same bench

You & I- we were one.

Inseperable bosom friends.

We shared our tiffins,

watched the same movies

we even fought as one.

My house was yours,

your house was mine.

Was.

One day, you wanted my pencil-

I had but one

my favourite one, too

with a magic rubber:

it smelled of peace,

like the spring breeze

which plays around our rooms

even after all these years

The pencil was cherished,

I refused to let it go

We fought a bitter battle

- Right in front of the class

Neither of us backed down

The whole class jeered us on

We tugged at the pencil

with all our might

without mercy

so hard that it snapped,

the rubber was lost

and with it, peace

It happened a long while ago-

We ought to have let it go

Alas!

We still sit on the same bench,

out of compulsion,

Across a bloody red line

a bloody red line that gnaws at our wounds,

Refusing to heed the peaceful breeze

That still plays around our rooms