Story of vast dry stretches of Yawal forests in MP. It is called Yawal Wildlife sanctuary, but , there is hardly any wild or life in it any more.
We were the forests,
But we are no more now.
What you see around
Are sad pictures and bad memories.
An uninspired photographer
May have some interest,
In our leaf-less structures,
In our grey and black hues,
In patterns that our pale thorn-like branches
Make against the dark monsoon sky.
Monsoon!
We once waited for it,
And rejoiced when it came.
Used to feel the tiny cool raindrops
Touch us, tickle us and trickle down
To reach our happy bosoms,
Through our veins.
Those were happy days and nights!
We used to share a story or two
With the travelers,
Who stopped by for some shade or smoke.
No one stops by now.
Not even the birds,
Who fly past us.
May be we look like men now.
An army of men rather,
In straight rows and columns,
In arms outstretched and ready
To ready to strike down..
Another small world,
Of us trees, animals, birds.
Another one of us,
We who were the Forests,
But now we are Men !
