Definitely no.It wasn't a boy, was a baby girl.Yes, a baby
girl in her mother's arms.Probably aunt's or someone with whom the girl is close to, in her life.
The baby embrassed her very tightly.One
could spot the stains on her pink frock - red,dark red,blood red.Yes ,those
were blood stains! A sense of agony,disturbance, fear,pain was perceived on the
woman's visage.Amidst the wrinkles ,her smudged eye make up,the cracked rouge
lips,wounds on her hands ,unwinded hair, scars on her forehead ,poised between
love and hatred, hope was seen in her radiant eyes.Poised between love and
hatred-love for the child who was trusting this women for the protection and
hatred for the people ,roots for all the bloodshed.
Raging with fury and great intensity of ferocity, the
avengers were brutally killing innocent people with sharp knives,swords,blades,axes,tools
and other sharp objects.Dead bodies on the ground were staring at this woman as
if they were crying out for help.Dreadful.Even the sky was red,red as if
someone stabbed it and the blood was flowing out, spread like seepage.No flaura.Vast
bare land.Few of them were just like her, trying to look out for a escape, a
hideout.They were also trying hard to
protect their loved ones from these barbarians.She stood at that spot with a
thought-foremost task was not to relinquish,not to abandon this little soul,she
had to escape somehow from this land of cannibals,huns,savage people or whatever
one may call.
Far away,I was observing the entire scene.It disturbed me a
lot.I could feel the pain.Vexed .Despise.In spite of all these emotions,I was
incapable.Helpless.Powerless.I could not help anyone.
At once, somebody hit my shoulder.I was startled .Shocked to
see her.My friend.She looked at me and asked me why i had such expressions on
my face.
I said"This painting......it's a masterpiece"
She said"Yeah,Ok... anyways lets go .. We are getting
late".She grabbed my hand and nudged.
And then we walked out of the museum after a few minutes.
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