She was the apple of her parent's eye
As pretty and delicate as a little flitting butterfly
A little waif of a child
Not more then eight or nine
It was while buying an ice cream
That she caught his attention
A sadistic psychopath who happened
to be very good at the art of deception
He materialized at their doorstep
Disguised as a servant
Appearing all proper and prim
So that he could easily worm his way in
As time passed they allowed their reliance
on him to grow and grow
Until they forgot that in spite of his efficiency
He was still some one they didn't even know
Until at last, one fateful day
He asked if he just might.. If he just may..
Take the little one out for a stroll
After all it was such a lovely day..
So effective was the patina of his self created trust
That the unsuspecting parents failed to see his thinly veiled lust
Chatting amicably he took her to his lair
An old abandoned house by the river
With the instinct that is present in every child
She realized that something was not quite right
However even as they passed the old broken gate
Little did she suspect little did she know,
Her vague unease she did not show
Because she had no inkling that for her. it was already, way too late
Unease turned to alarm to outright dismay
She cried she pleaded she prayed
But all her remonstrations were to no avail
Because her would be ravisher was not to be strayed
His look was that of a wild beast
Even as he slobbered over his feast
Reviling in the power of his might
He turned a deaf ear to her tearful plight
Indeed like an enraged wolf he her vestments tore
Until he was literally bespattered with her gore
Gone was the butterfly, its beauty forever besmirched
A symbol of fragile delicacy forever scarred
Afterwards sated and content he became so numb
Indeed, to such depths of depravity had he sunk
That the little angel's remains
Were actually disposed off in a garbage dump
Her parents had meanwhile started a hectic search
For the child they had so lovingly nurtured
Great was their anguish when at last she was found
Alone and uncovered in a trash mound
To a hospital she was immediately taken
Alas. alas . all the doctors efforts all the mother's prayers
All the predictions of the soothsayers
Were no good to the stricken
It was with many a heartfelt curse on the black hearted knave
That the little child's remains were laid to rest in a shallow little grave
Underneath the shady tree, beneath the starry skies
On a little hillock, safe forever from the world she lies
Never more will her house resonate from her impish cries
Never more will she with her puerile demeanour her sibling's patience try
Gone forever was her dazzling smile, her gape toothed grin
Capable of tugging at the hardest of heart strings
Indeed it is with a heavy heart that I this ditty compose
As I wrap up this ordeal caused only by innocence
My aim is simply to strip away the veneer of sacrocence
That is the hallmark of a society… callous to the point of complacence
By Tahir S. Attarwala (Sept. 24 2000)
Asst. Co-ordinator,
YFOW (Young Friends of WAR)Programme
W.A.R.
(War Against Rape)
A tribute to little Fauzia Munawwar
Born 1986
Died 1993
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