Handicapped

[ Against all terrorism, bomb blasts across the world. ]

A pair of crutches lay on the pavement.

Amidst a crowd, crumpled vehicles,
mutilated remains, security people,
flashbulbs and smoke, Ramu searched
for his white tennis ball.

His temples throbbed with the hoot of an
ambulance, in a stagnant smell of charred flesh
-someone pushed him away.

One pigeon perched itself
upon the idle crutches, tweaked at
a smallish globe, messy with
streaks of deep red.

It rolled for a distance, and stopped.