The military use of children takes three distinct forms: children can take direct part in hostilities (child soldiers), or they can be used in support roles such as porters, spies, messengers, look outs, and sexual slaves; or they can be used for political advantage either as human shields or in propaganda.
(source : Wikipedia.com)
In our lives, being lived at some corner of the world, we would hardly realize some of the cruelest realities which demean the very name of human existence. Using children as feeds to nourish the heinous ambitions undefined is a sin beyond any sin.
They have their right to choose their future and the path towards peace and prosperity.
You would have known me as the kite runner
chasing the glitter of spun dreams in silk.
With innocence in sight and logic far behind,
I followed your steps knowing of no guilt.
I knew of a world where prayers came true
in the stories sung by my beautiful mother.
Where she lies now, I just don’t know.
With dust of evil convince, I lost sight of her.
You taught me to snatch from the destiny
as I was bound to be gagged and trampled.
In the omnipresent reality of our race,
you taught me to wear a soul crumpled.
Children of God, with guns of terror.
Who disfigured the purity you had?
A world indebted by your sanctimonious blood.
How the absurd victorious would be glad?
Hunger is the want or scarcity of food which has been aggregated to the world level.
Of the 6.8 billion world population about 925 million i.e. 13.6% are hungry.
Poor nutrition plays a role in at least half of the 10.9 million child deaths each year.
Under nutrition magnifies the effect of every disease, including measles and malaria.
We need to give more than just a concern for the cause.
The infected subsistence of hope alone
may not suffice to help me stand.
My prayers are null and I know of no God,
spoken of words so virtuous and grand.
I’ve begged for the mercy of fate itself
for a loaf of bread or the eventual end.
Excruciating mirages of empty anticipations.
Nightmares and reality thoroughly blend.
My resolve is still not shattered
but how do I face my children, dying.
Their helpless father carries them in ache.
On the pyre, burning alive, I see them lying.
How do I tell them stories so true,
of glowing peace and satiated needs.
He has seen cruelty of no reason alone.
Age five – how wrong were his deeds?
We are the same like you all.
Made of the same blood and heart.
Perhaps, I have paid for all our sins.
As humanity and sense drift apart.
“So, which one of these do you think should make it.”
Mr. Browne spoke as he glided the two 10 x 12 photographs towards Natasha and Patrick sitting in front of him. Both of them got hold of one photograph each and went into a deep study mode as if to decipher the hidden codes of expression.
The Editor-in-Chief got out of his wobbly leather chair and paced towards the coffee machine next to the large glass window.
“Any of you been to the new restaurant on the Bella Square? What’s its name?” Mr. Browne enquired looking out of the window as he took a sachet of sugar-free sugar and shook it three-four times on his left palm.
“La Appétit Désirer,” answered Natasha as she exchanged her photograph with the one Patrick was looking into. “The food is French, less in the plate and costly.”
“I think they are known for their desserts and all those sweet stuffs, right?” Mr. Browne spoke as he poured coffee in three white mugs.
Patrick got up and picked up two mugs as Mr. Browne took the third and settled down on the leather chair. He put one on the side table next to Natasha as she was holding the two photographs and analyzing something. Patrick stood behind her.
“Shall we get your lunch today from there, sir?” Suggested Natasha.
“No. I am in no mood for any French today. The owner has already invited me and my wife after the Fund Raiser. I think they are the one who are going to look after the food on Saturday for the event.”
“Good opportunity for them to initiate with the Who-of-the-What of the state on a flavorsome note.” Patrick added as he took a sip of the coffee.
“So, which one of those?” Mr. Browne again gave the cue.
“I think this one with the trucks and people on the background gives the photograph more complete look than this plain desert one.” Natasha gave her conclusion as she held both the photographs together for Mr. Browne to see.
“Exactly what I was going to suggest,” said Patrick. “I think if we enlarge this for the background of the stage; it’s going to be more complete and vibrant for the Fund Raiser.”
Mr. Browne pressed a number on the intercom and said, “Cindy, the one with the trucks in the background,” and hung up the phone.
I took one more excruciating look on the two pictures of malnourished dead bodies of six-seven Ethiopian children – none aged more than three years, and realized that one of them had trucks on the background.