With nostalgia in my heart <br />and longing in my eyes, <br />I dream of my city. <br />I cross the river of my innocence <br />and take the road to my childhood; <br />I stop at the crossroads of growing up <br />and make my way <br />to the city of my happy memories. <br /> <br />Addresses written in familiar hands <br />show me the way; <br />fragments of memories <br />lead me on. <br />And, there, suddenly before me, <br />Is the city of my dreams. <br /> <br />But everything seems strange <br />in this city I knew so well. <br />Everything is in ruins: <br />the roads deserted, <br />the houses desolate and forlorn. <br />There is no warmth <br />in the jostling posters; <br />no invitation in the peeling walls. <br />I come face to face <br />with the harsh ironies <br />lying in wait for me. <br /> <br />Unwanted sights crowd me: <br />friendly knocks rebuffed <br />on the neighbour's door; <br />thirst returning from the dry tap; <br />childhood crying on its way <br />to an orphaned future; <br />modesty hiding her tears in shame; <br />innocence caught <br />between flying bullets; <br />amity falling into pieces <br />from broken domes. <br /> <br />The day retreats in disgrace, <br />night comes weeping <br />in the completeness of its shame. <br />Bewildered, I look at faith <br />Stuck on the knife's edge, <br />dharma blasted in explosions, <br />conscience drowned in blood, <br />and justice consumed by arson. <br />I have a dream before my eyes; <br />there is a city in my dreams, <br />and there is <br />a curfew in the city.<br /><br />Jagannath Prasad Das<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/curfew-in-the-city/
