Few Lines… Cannot really decide whether to call it a poem or an outburst of emotions!
Hathras, Delhi, Bengal, Haryana, Infinite times, Infinite cases, Infinite victims…
It is the tale never told
Of gloomy, blood-stained paths and desiccated bodies
Some with unbroken words, bruised vagina and wounded lips screaming in silence!
It is the tale which is repeated
Of bodies that are loved and hung from the weak branches
Bodies that keep our faith untangled in ourselves!
Shame ON US? Do you say so?
Rebellion? Does it look like that?
Do the candles burn on our smoky eyes and Martini-stained lips?
Or do they just remain a police case in some XYZ place?
Let us take the magnifying glass once more,
If we can really discover the HUMANE!