Remembering attacks of 26/11

It was the late evening of November. 

He held me fearfully in his hands, hiding me from the passers-by.

"Ouch!" He led a cry when one of my thorns pricked him. But he continued walking as he squeezed me between the pages of an old novel. He entered his favorite library with a smile, while searching for her. 

"John, it's almost the closing time." Mrs. Joseph at the counter declared with concern. 

"Where's Mini?" John thought to himself. 

Poor boy, all he wanted to give me to her along with a special handwritten note, I know that it took him a lot of courage to do it. I could say that with the way he held me, so nervously

"I just wanted to return the book," he said only after removing me... rose, the symbol of love, and that letter... turning away from her sight. He left without asking her whereabouts.

And hopped on the bus to CST.

Around 9.10 p.m. He arrived there. And only a few minutes later... A bomb exploded. 

A numbing silence rose, followed by rash shooting, it was all a chaos that hid everything from the loud cries of a baby, to the groans of the grown-ups. 

And somewhere in between I was found crushed. The color red spread all over the platform between the dust and mud. 

And no, it wasn't just my color. 

All the love letters, dreams, flowers and humans along with humanity were trashed that day. 

I wonder, was it the death of love? 

Or the birth of violence and terrorism in the City? 

It was the night of 26 November 2008