When the fearless sun finally rose, The children had started playing Hide and seek among the graves of The nameless dead, Pretend guns blazing above Bullet-ridden castrated dead lying below Their fingernails peeled off, Thumbs chopped liked shawl-weavers burdened with taxes You could tell in the mellow morning, Where the dead lay, Their Clotted blood had mixed into the clay Their graves marked by blood red irises in A sea of whites, their lives turned into Weeds that lay unattended among little Tin boards proclaiming random numbers assigned By the lonely grave digger who never knew them In between widows crying over the wrong graves And mothers hugging the anonymouss mounds of earth, The mountains echo with the sacrilegious mirth of Children playing hide and seek among the nameless Dead, tempting fate, biding time till they grow-up And disappear like, others before, among the nameless dead (For Showkat Nanda) * Mor