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INK DRIFT MAGAZINE<br />
Who Killed My Parindah<br />
Monica Choudhary<br />
I saw her perched on a fork shaped minaret,<br />
On the top of a Masjid,<br />
I was standing outside the building,<br />
For I am no Sajid but a Mujahid;<br />
She stood there until a line of zahids entered,<br />
I did not budge but stood inert and centerd;<br />
Away from home, I stood there to find answers to my questions,<br />
Dismayed by not finding Allah but only few men repeating quaint actions;<br />
After much cogitation I walked back to my home,<br />
Thinking Allah is neither in Masjid nor in Rome;<br />
Why this inspiring edifice stood there for a mere name,<br />
Salvaged by the bird who sat thinking the same;<br />
As I galvanized she too had moved to fly,<br />
A kafir has no friend but a bird, an ally;<br />
She disappeared into darkness as I reached home,<br />
Amidst darkness around I shrieked my heart out;<br />
Discovering everyone inside my house was dead,<br />
I thought of the bird perched on the Masjid’s head;<br />
An unknown courage stemmed from inside without even touching harness,<br />
I left my wife and child and ran into dark;<br />
In a wink I vanished and appeared outside the Masjid,<br />
The bird laid dead near my feet, along with Allah and Abid.<br />
www.inkdrift.com<br />
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