In an old mansion
Of a desert city
An old caretaker
Goes around night-watching
Till the early hours
With his little lantern
Of pain
And
Memories
Of the past
Of his massacred sons
Of his raped daughters
Of his sick wife
Who died of pain
Walk with him
In the dark and cold
Corridors of the Time
And
He also thinks
Of his master
Who is old, mad, forgotten man
And is
Victim of his own people
He loiters around the city streets
Whole night
In search of light
But
Returns to his mansion
At dawn
As he can't face the truth
He and caretaker then
Put off the lantern
And cry in the silence.
~Anita Sabharwal