Disillusioned

On 16th December 2012, the world shifted a little. Evolution had reversed and human beings regressed to a lesser developed species – barbaric, savage and infernal. And at least, animals only attack their prey if provoked. So, I’d say we went even further behind in the evolutionary cycle.

March 6th 2020. It’s been nearly eight years, EIGHT arduous, grueling years and those feral animals have not been executed. The irony is, if it were an animal, we wouldn’t think twice before putting a bullet between its eyes. Why do these men deserve to be treated any better? 

These men stand as a symbol of everything we have fought to progress from – war, tyranny, genocide, brutality. Have we really evolved? We still rape, plunder and kill but under the veneer of respectability and regard. It breaks my heart to see the disillusionment in people’s eyes each time they read about a girl violated at the tender age of three years. It makes me question everything, my respect for the country and it’s legal system, my faith in humanity, my purpose in life. 

Why do we try to make the world a better place only to be let down every single time?

So to embody that flurry of emotions that is …so difficult to describe I wrote a short poem a few months ago. It’s different from anything I’ve written before as it has no form, no rhyme scheme, that I usually cling onto. The lack of order represents the sheer anarchy that the world is in today. It also ends with a note of hope, as I do believe that today, that’s all we have left.

Warm, sultry night 
Garb of a teenage lass
Blissfully unaware
Dancing to the pulsating rhythm
Wide grin, short lived.
Malicious eyes
Locked on it's target
Languid walk, smooth talk
Stepped out for some air
In the alley, eerie silence
Within a heartbeat
Inhumanity was there
The air escaped her lungs. 


Disarrayed. Sullied. Violated.
Once. 
She thrashed in agony
A blood-curdling scream 
The music was louder 
Twice. 
Tears streaming down her cheeks.
Please stop.
He paid her no heed 
Thrice.
Protest rendered nugatory
Flailing ceased...
Unconscious 


Glaring white light. 
Probed everywhere 
Throbbing pain, unfamiliar surroundings
The black curtain falls
The show is over.


Mother at her bedside,
Eyes swollen and red,
Pulled into an embrace
Familiar territory. 
But she squirms
Skin scorching, afraid to be touched
Scarred for eternity ,
Flesh once pure,
Tattooed by his grimy fingers.
He served five years
She, imprisoned for life.


Thousands of candles,
Her flame, extinguished.
Surrounded by rings of darkness
Cried herself to sleep
For that's when she saw him.
Three years later.
Music blaring through the speakers 
A stranger's eyes met hers 
He saw sombre beauty.
She saw hope.