A Monochrome Magpie

Sitting on a branch of a dying babul tree
On the margin of a big concrete T,
A monochrome magpie was whistling;
Creating a serene dulcet melody.

The melody brought me to a fantasy land;
I was wandering here and there.
Some mischievous voices were whispered;
Panic seized me.I opened my eyes.

Some uniformed lads were heading for the tree,
Preparing the slingshot by placing the marble.
I could do something- they shot that magpie;
Captured and kept her captive behind the bars.

She was writhing; I tried to set her free;
But five quarters meg,only, was the price!