Please Let Him Hurl

A boy Hardly five Threw a tomato at me On a crowded Tamil street It hit my chest and splashed A constellation of yellow stars On my blue T-shirt His mother admonished And chided him in harsh words She poured herself on me With profuse apology I told her not to worry Her ward didn’t do anything wrong He might bowl for the country In the future and bring laurels In international cricket Or rather he will pick cudgels And hit out against injustice When a mother or sister Or the weak or underprivileged Is violated on our uncertain land Keep him hurling mom And let him grow So that our weaknesses And unjust excesses Never go unopposed Or unanswered Let the spark in him Be a brilliant flame And guide us ahead With its splashy glow