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Obituary, poem by Rumjhum Biswas

      He swallowed bullets,
      A whole lung full of them. And
      He got written about
      In the national dailies.
      All of twenty seven
      Years old with an old father
      To mull over his son the hero, when
      He should be mulling over things like
      Possible names for his
      Possible grandson. But that's how
      It is.
      You get shot and then they run
      Columns on you. You die and the
      Nation sort of wakes up
      And then tries to remember what
      It had been dreaming of
      And then shakes its head saying
      "Oh. He shouldn't have. He
      Really shouldn't have. Oh how
      This country needs
      Young men like him."

      Everybody is saying that.
      But
      The young man is dead
      And his old father
      Is left
      Shaking his head.
      Ideals
      In old age slows down the heart so.


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