A Bud Crushed Under The Foot

The day’s newspaper shook my heart. I can only shed a tear on my part. A heartless father shot his daughter. It was like an animal slaughter. Her love for a boy was the cause. She married him as her choice, Not with her parents’ consent That led to their utter dissent. Her father, to teach a lesson, He invited the boy in person, For a talk in a public place, Just to break their alliance. Her mother became serious, Her father became furious, When the talk failed at last, As the kids stood steadfast. Father had in his pocket hidden, A pistol normally forbidden, Two or three rounds he shot, And gave the boy a chase hot. The boy escaped with a wound, But the girl fell dead on the ground, Her life sucked up by bullets three, From the pistol that flew free. Oh God, when this gun culture, From this earth will disappear? Why a father kills his daughter, O’er such a simple love matter? What for he bred her for years? Had their eyes dried of tears? Many lost lovers history has seen, Now one more added, fresh and green. (A news from 'Times of India' of 8-10-2005)