THE GIRL WITH A JAR

Look at the girl over there,

She’s carrying a small jar,

It’s neither filled with sugar nor with jam,

But by some white capsules and pills,

She uses them to heal each of her scar.

She opens the lid,

And shoves a pill into her mouth,

She coughs uneasily, it tastes bitter,

She takes a deep breath,

As she’s relieved after quenching her heart’s drouth.

I see her again after a week or so,

She still has the jar now half-empty,

She looks paler and whiter than before,

Her breath whistles through her nose,

As she has consumed the pills, a plenty.

I run upto her,

I snatch the jar,

I empty all the pills into the bin,

She looks at me helplessly,

As she let’s her burning stomach Lavar.

I gently rub her back,

As she weakly throws up,

She collapses into my arms,

And looks at me blankly,

As I help her get up.

I carry her light-weight frame,

On my shoulder,

And whisper into her ear

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay”

She clings tightly as the atmosphere is getting colder.

I lay her on the hospital bed,

She’s fast asleep,

As the nurse examines her,

She opens her mouth slowly,

And let’s out a sigh very deep.

After a decade I spot her again,

Healthier and all better than before,

She has a young girl with her,

I presume she’s her daughter,

A childish face, with no trace of sore.

They walk towards me,

I wave at them ,

The girl who is a woman now,

Takes my palms in hers

As I rub her palm’s hem.

Her daughter hands me the jar,

Which I had once emptied in the bin,

She innocently beams, as I take it,

It has no capsules or pills,

But instead has some toffees and a muffin.

The woman envelops me into a hug,

“I wouldn’t be alive without you” She says,

Tears roll down my cheeks,

And she gently wipes them,

“May God keep you safe” She joins her hands and prays.