On a raised place
on the right
a person with clout and unhappy with the happenings
is on the right with a group behind him

on the left
unware of whats about to happen
a man walks in measuredly like a lion
prescience wouldnt change his course

Someone in the crowd blamed him for the riot
An axe is thrown at his mid-body
No scream or shout.

I am screened by the trellis under the bridge
'Where is his wife?'
'Where is his wife?'

I see a familiar face.
We pace around looking for his remains.
Blood stains lead to a closed room.
The wooden gate reveals two dark men.
one over the other.
I salute the legs to not incense him
to excuse my unintentional intrusion

The friend is lost
In my search, I realise the place is
Bhadrachalam.

It rains
At first a hand swipe washes its existence
Then the drizzle makes its force felt
Then it turns to a controlled sprinkle
like the one to spruce a naked front yard

I could have taken the axe assault for you.