From the Attic

Last Sunday I was cleaning my house, as it was getting painted. I had assigned myself a job! I would clean out the attic, that was dumped with old books and articles. This suited me fine, as one could throw out the articles pretty fast, but who knew what treasures lay in the books!

On my job, I found an old faded hard bound book. As I opened it, found that it was a poetry book that was printed in 1934 and had been bought for 4 annas! For the un-initiated, 16 annas make a rupee! It looked like a text book of sorts for a Grand Uncle of mine. It had his name, the class he was studying in, and several notings of synonyms and antonym!

After rifling through the book, one caught my eye. (with my mind still on the Salman Khan case!)

The Snare

I hear a sudden cry of Pain!

There is a rabbit in the snare:

Now I hear the cry again

But I cannot tell from where.

But I cannot tell from where

He is calling out for aid;

Crying on the frightened air,

Making everything afraid.

Making everything afraid,

Wrinkling up his little face,

As he cries again for aid;

And I cannot find the place!

And I cannot find the place

Where his paw is in the snare:

Little one! Oh, little one!

I am searching everywhere!

-James Stephens

Guess our dear Macho - styled Salman never ever heard the cries of the animals that he was shooting, or if he did, it gave him a rush of testosterone to shoot them and even more pleasure to then eat them!

Little one! Oh, little one, why do you catch the eye of Brutes?