The hurt

An innocent girl and her friend,
walked the beautiful Delhi streets,
until some brutal youths kidnapped them,
in a bus within the city’s limits

Perhaps, Srinagar is safer then,
where every man on the road has a gun,
where goons dare not rape even a hen,
but then similar problems are there even

A collective desperate that they raped her,
beat her and then tear her hither thither,
intestines, blood and filth here and there,
reduced to a dead body somebody’s daughter

I can’t think anything sensible this hour,
my head is filled with daze,
could have been clearer less sour,
had my school taught a honest learning page on sex and rape

But I am learning now as time rambles,
the elected, executive and law-keepers thrive in shambles,
all can blame the society and its variables,
intelligent this time not to take upon themselves,
while the president was road trippin to bay of bangles,
citizen at Janpath beaten from almost all angles

anyhow, all waiting for time to solve it as always,
Now that it has been realized again,
certainly not forgotten because of the scar and its stain,
that although the road and streets are safe again,
we will walk in groups in this our nation,
or at least in two’s,
avoid talking to strangers not in aquaintance,
not still befriend the concept called freedom

now there be peace rallies against violence,
let'ss all walk shamefully with sympathetic candles,
flames saved from wind by one handed palm cap cups,
they are not meant to light a cigarette,
they are to signify a hope, a new start,
whatsoever

laugh it off a bygone unpleasant event,
happens every day and somewhere in our sub-continent,
law-makers better change for,
you and me and our big brother,
representative of us, paid by us,
take some genuine responsibility for the hurt