A little girl writes from a Delhi slum,
I am a Hindu; You are a Muslim
I am a champa; You are a chameli
Two flowers of the same color,
But with a different fragrance.
In India where sectarian violence has bitterly divided urban communities, this is the stuff of radical poetry. They write a lot of it at the Ankur after school centers, where amidst poverty and deep distrust, they are quietly and determinedly planting the seeds of peace.
Sushobha Barve
