Suman Bhattarai
In a land afar, from the jungle she was taken,
Little Mini, an innocent soul, her spirit shaken.
Bound by chains, stripped of freedom’s delight,
Her plight now shared on screens, shining bright.
In the depths of sorrow, her cries resound,
Echoing the pain inflicted, cruel and profound.
Once in the wild, where she should have thrived,
Now trapped in a world where her innocence died.
A heartless multitude, devoid of remorse or care,
Within this realm of cruelty, Mini’s burdens they bear.
Her blood-stained wounds, a testament to their ruthlessness,
Witnessed by callous eyes, devoid of tenderness.
Articles of torture, penned with callous delight,
Words that bring joy, eroding what’s right.
To those who revel in her agony and despair,
May the weight of their actions be too heavy to bear.
A daughter disguised, in the form of a sin.
Casting her victims into a world of torment and pain,
Indulging in their suffering, an unforgivable stain.
In the depths of her anguish, the physical and the cruel,
In her wounds and suffering, her tears become a fuel.
A plea to free all those imprisoned in this dark abyss,
To break the cycle of violence, no more to amiss.
She yearned for a touch, a warm embrace,
To feel protected in a loving embrace.
But destiny had cast its merciless spell,
Leaving her orphaned, her fate to dwell.
With each sunrise, her resilience grew,
As she discovered a strength he never knew.
She became a symbol of courage and grace,
In this harsh world, she found his rightful place.
May Mini’s voice reach across every shore,
Awakening compassion that lies at our core.
In unity, we stand against this abhorrent strife,
To protect the innocent, and grant them a new life.
Let Mini’s story be a catalyst for change,
A testament to the resilience we must arrange.
For every life that suffers in silence and fear,
Let us lend our voices and wipe away every tear.
(Originally from Batting, Palpa, the poet currently lives in the UK.)
