The roads are empty,
even the leaves are still in a tree,
because it’s the day of
13 March 1993.
The temples are quiet,
even mosques are in silence,
it’s the cause of the,
previous day violence.
People who went to the market,
never came back,
because their bodies are lying,
on the railway track.
This began as a religious fight,
but it took a severe turn,
caused a lot of massacre,
and made the Hindus wear white.
The stores are shut
and the market closed,
no one on the streets,
and bodies not decomposed.
With the news,
of people getting ashed,
Investors pulled out money,
and the stock market collapsed.
By this news,
whole India was shocked,
but these rascal terrorists thought,
in the name of jihad they have rocked.
This incident left,
no one roam on the streets free,
because it’s the day of
13 March 1993……….
Your poem captures the haunting aftermath of the tragic events surrounding the 1993 Bombay bombings with raw emotion and vivid imagery. It reflects on the devastating impact of violence—how it silences bustling cities, disrupts everyday life, and leaves lasting scars on communities. The piece emphasizes the human cost of extremism while highlighting the ripple effects on society, from personal loss to economic turmoil. Through your words, the grief and shock felt across India are powerfully conveyed, making the reader pause and reflect on the consequences of hatred and violence.