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Dawnrise
Moniva Sadhu Hooghly, West Bengal. INDIA
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In a tiny house of earthen clay,
In the depth of night’s dark sway,
A single lamp is softly lit,
Its fragile flame goes flicker-fit.
Ten-year-old Arun, calm and still,
Reads his book with steady will.
On the wall before his sight,
Vidyasagar’s calendar bright
With focused eyes and quiet grace,
He gazes at that noble face.
His widowed mother, night and day,
Cooks in five homes, far away,
Yet mother and son together stay
In one small room of humble clay.
At break of dawn young Arun rides
A rented cycle, street to street,
Delivering newspapers wide,
Then home he comes on weary feet.
Washed and fed with hurried care,
A modest meal, a breath, a prayer.
He packs his bag with careful hand,
Books and pencils neatly planned,
Then off he runs, no time to spare,
Along the village pathways bare,
Twisting roads that lead him fast
Toward the government school at last.
With stubborn grit held in the mind,
A human soul no bounds can find.
Bright Arun grows through patient years,
Nurtured by his teachers’ cheers.
Slowly that same boy arrives
At eighteen strong, with dreams alive
Statewide exams: he stands up first,
His name on every tongue rehearsed.
In papers, screens, each interview,
His story travels far and true
The praise of a poor, driven son
Spreads from home to home, till all is won. |
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KISHOR BARTA | E-mail : kishorbarta.eng@gmail.com |
