An Ode to a Tigress From India
In a moving bus, on a chilly night
At Delhi, she was cruelly violated
Where cruelty, as a word stands in shame
Even animals are ashamed of the six beasts
Nazi concentration camps better off
Eight rapes, then by a rusty rod
Her intestines pulled out, by a juvenile.
Why she to suffer?
Why you to hear?
Why a pen without words?
Even the wind stands still…
Let down by
Corrupt officers, insensitive politicians,helpless gods
For thirteen days, she fought like a tigress
Then slowly succumbed to lifelessness.
In death also she saved India.
Had her life gone out in India
Delhi would have burned.
To save a C.M’s chair she was flown out.
Saving Delhi, saving politicians.
But the fire rages inside millions’ hearts.
She was an Indian girl
But we couldn’t save her honour and life.
Had she not the right to die in India?
Having gone she is the only one
Not in pain.
Her only mistake was being born an Indian
A CM who was blown off in public ire
Places a wreath in the middle of night
Is she paying respects or
Adding fuel to the unseen rage
In many hearts.
Three surgeries on this
Little daughter of India.
“I want to live
Please save me…”
Hanging on to life
Her words makes waves in the air
“Have they been caught?
…..Should be BURNT alive…
The wounded tigress whispered
In uncontrollable pain.
Her cries for help
Her wail of suffering, the inhuman torture
Drives an axe in your brain
You could go mad.
Had she been alive
Would have become India’s IKON
For the women of the world
Above Jhansi Rani.
Alas we failed her!
Many corrupt and insensitive political fools
Have memorials in Delhi.
Where flowers pour and
Crocodiles come to mourn
At least twice a year
Where is her memorial my countrymen?
The flames of rage burning in many hearts
Will come out and build a memorial for her
In the minutest of words she is the
Joan of Arc of India.
And she will become JYOTHY MA to many
Giving blessings to a nation of helpless citizens
A story from wind
Far from Delhi, near to Bombay
A youth goes to a home, of course
The gold being fake
Chops off the fingers of a sixty five year old woman,
Follows with twenty one stabs and kills her
Then rapes her pregnant grand daughter-in-law
And stabs her only nineteen times.
The young woman avoids her belly
Whilst taking the stabs: to save her child.
Job done the youth leaves
One mistake, the young woman was alive.
The youth given the noose
Goes to the Supreme Judiciary
Next only to God.
The mighty Authority intervenes
And saves him from the noose
As he smelt alcohol then,
Hence can be reformed.
Also good conduct in jail saved his life
Kangaroos brought from Australia, in black coats
Surprisingly alcohol is not hanged
Or the sellers booked
Given swathanthar (freedom) from death.
Blame it on alcohol
This is only a story by the wind.
The ordinary people dread
The thought when
These six beasts may be declared as
Human beings by the Supreme Authorities
For after keen observation find out
That they walk on two legs
They may be let off after reformation
With a water service:- cleaning them.
Of course, none of the authorities’ women
Were molested and tortured.
These reformed beasts could come
To our women to “re-form” them
Better learn to live without intestines,
Poor women folk of India.
You should have had the sense of
Not to have been born or
At least not on Earth
Or if given a chance
Never in India.