Seven years! It took seven bloody years for justice to be delivered. Today I'm in a conundrum as to be happy or to be enraged. Happy that the culprits finally got what they deserved or enraged and angry that it took seven years for it to come to pass with more such cases happening, terrifying womenfolk, all over the country. Seven years of perseverance, relentless pursuit, humiliating questions, gutwrenching fear, helpless situations and frustrating slowness of the system. We say justice delayed is justice denied, in this case it fits quite aptly, I believe, as these seven years of struggle seeded in many the belief that it's okay to do unimaginable things to women as justice will not be delivered or that frankly it will take years to be convicted if the victim dares to ask for justice. No one wants years of reliving the same nightmare just to get justice, which they deserve, for themselves or for their loved ones. It's another level of punishment they do not need to go through. Still, it is a bright day today. Bright for she got her justice. Bright for her tormentors ended today. Bright for her mother won the fight. Bright for it brings hope that maybe these types of horrors may decrease a little. Bright for after seven years of being cloaked by darkness, today she was set free to shine, to smile.
Cobalt dreams swirling in wonders of varying shades of the same colour. Homonymous meanings infiltrate into a majestic explosion of all that's true, inspirational, loyal, and intelligent. Intuition makes its home in a comforting aura of an awestruck enlightenment. Clean and clear skies to bring a silent peace that is so obvious, yet, so mysterious. Of all of the different colours, my favorite is the essence of blue. Not just a shade but symbols of purity and magic. Where royalty and inspiration marry into a world that can take us far away, but keeps us close to home. Of all that'll levitate the spiritual planes of grace. Of all that'll calm the storms that rage with such fire inside. Of all that is in me. Love has found a colourful harmonic balance. Of blue.
Maybe I am too late for a day when the tap roots of some passengers of vilely rages are demolished by some rugged clutches. There is another threshold to where I am standing now, a happier nostalgia. I am old enough by emotions but not by the strength of mind. I used to spend my nourishing morrows by cheering the huge grasses of wild lands, their fun time shows which a soothing zephyr had contributed to. They shake off the last raindrop, the bathing memories vaporize slowly when the dew drops of winter arrive to kiss them but the taste of melancholic raindrops remain on their leafy foreheads. Whenever I would travel, passers by stopped, gazed at me and would sing out a light note to my unmannerly craziness. I was a sun sapphire to the blue pages of sky but now there is too little space for me in mommy nature's lap. I live in sublime images of a hue past grey, a tinkle bell of stragglers in happy soulful days are as rich as a smile of diamond white teeth which I cherish a lot these days. Nowadays, I feel very empty within, walking beside air through the streets of vendors whom I see selling smiles but none do attract my conscience of desires anymore. Today what I want is a chair to sit, spread out the sensory nerves of cranium everywhere and gather memories of the streets where I played each and every day and got new toffees from my grandad, at least he would be glad celebrating my momentary triumph.
I should define myself as a crown coronating mangoes of a tree counted the most delicious of the other royal assets in the neighbour's garden. Till date, I know its taste better than the gardener next door, I would often peep there for plucking the old ones and coronating the prince/princess mangoes with the soft mellowy cushiony touch of my hands whispering "You Are Born TO REIGN, You Are STRONG, You Are BRAVE." It was a day after the hurricane of diverse perceptions which triggered my mind to leave behind an epitaph to the directed verse encrypted in flower petals groaning in vast summer wilderness, it was then my heartbeat reached to those the ten million dices who are afraid of living. They think that life is a coal mine, dark inside, dark everywhere you look. They think as their lives are choked with enveloping coal-tar pitches as roads are lapped with. These silent oblivions were dancing dolls in vision to fate. The bright sun would rise everyday but concealed the presence in front of them. So, they were all pale to the thought that they were abandoned and put in bitter darkness. A ten million, don't you think it is a huge representation from a community of where even fundamental rights were handcuffed?
Today is an another grave, I have been to many such structures of extreme heights but this one was of a tremendous conical layout. But why do I still believe that the cones were a thousand spheres before casting creation of a pyramid?