Same Moon ~ Three Eclipse
// Sanguineous Canvas of Delhi // ~ Nirbhaya
Doomsday of humanity was it, perhaps, as despite radiant alleys, blood patches sobbed in murkiness. Her dreams were slaughtered, her peace was snatched. Satan remained kaiser of tenebrous avenues. Her naked canvas imprinted the road of Capital,
with blood. For her, she was raped and beaten mercilessly.
Nah! It wasn't her dress code. Neither she was drunk. She was about to end up with the tired night and take a sip of new dawn. But her sun never rose.
// Multiple Sin // ~minor yet dimly covered
Sikkim gang rape.
A 19 years old Mother was raped.
A girl from Bihar was raped
and flung from the running train.
* and many more *
// Trampled flower of Pakistan // ~Zainab
Crimson smile, without guile.
God resided in those eyes.
Euphoric smiles were burnt into ashes,
and those ejaculate breathtaking sighs!
The hands of bud are sanguineous,
with the sins of maggot.
Oblivion caged eligibility to adore,
salacity became the kaiser.
Humans were they, alas! that they forgot!
Summer-rose sheet imprinted with blood clots,
horrid became the skin!
Atrocity slaughtered the humankind ;
Almighty's heart got melted like rain!
So dark, so deep became her ultimate sleep!
This sphere embraced her ;
and soil became the lap
for her ultimate slumber!
// Slaughtered smile of Kathua // ~ Asifa
Her walls were stained with blood patches.
Her glasses of dreams got scratches.
Did she provoke your organs?
You left her with nothing but moans.
Gradually pinching, tweaking, the humanity!
In a mind blowing way, you framed a travesty.
Atrocities are yet ashamed.
Trying to hide behind the mischiefs' name.
Yet curtains fell short.
Day by day, the love and mercy is drowning,
drifting away on astray, as you do abort!
The souvenirs will haunt the family.
But we will never find you guilty.
She was a kid, not flourished yet.
But you made her your salacity's puppet!
Humans, you make me laugh hard,
as you bring the matter of religion.
You question God for making this reign.
No Asifa, no! I can't paint your pain.
Those vermilion patches of sin.
You have breathed a lot, mourned a lot.
All I will pray is doomsday for those demons.
Some lurid words from Lord.
And on their neck, that merciless sword.
The soil has embraced you, dear.
Try to have a slumber.
We will daunt them with some hideous nonel.
Not over Humans, I have faith on God ;
he will light up at the edge of tunnel.
Hopefully, one day.
// what we did //
* candle march *
* mourn over the loss *
* blame some demons *
* protesting in social media *
* taking some pledges *
* scribbling something *
_and different things according to people_
// what we got //
Let's forget about the recent sin.
Let's forget about yesternight's nightmare.
Rape has been a problem since 19th century.
And after each case we are doing the same things but still Statistics of rapes and other criminal activities is being increased.
SOME SIP of REALITY ?
// what I have seen // ~ bogus social media
* "Don't break your head into this!" *
How many times you have heard this from your near ones? Be honest. Speak out!
Let me smell, many times.
And during the highly covered rape cases, those indifferent near ones are the first to crown their social accounts with those news and virtual protests.
I have a question!
* Why don't you show the protest in real?
Before some police station, or court?*
*How many times have you closed your eyes
and took a U-turn from the places when someone needed help? *
*How many times despair engulfed you
and you didn't respond?
How many times you took your phone on your palm to record a video and not to call an ambulance or police? *
I know you can't answer. As there are many times. You don't even remember. And you won't be able to.
Nirbhaya got justice?
Have the Satans taken their last breath?
Why 31000 rape cases
are pending in different police stations?
Because we don't show courage!
We call India democratic country.
Yet we mourn that none hear us, the mob.
Because we never slide away the curtains of being social.
We love to flow with the trend.
TELL me, how many of you call out Zainab's name while thinking about Asifa?
Don't say the answer!
The number will be disappointing and offending.
// I apologise //
I apologise Nirbhaya, I was a kid then.
I could do nothing.
I apologise Zainab, we only protested for being social. I could do nothing. My pledges were dimmed before the red eyes of my family. You belong to a family too. But I didn't ponder, perhaps. You were from Pakistan. Even I can't go there, maybe. I couldn't raise my voice before my near one's Do's and Don'ts. I apologise.
I apologise Asifa. Yes I do.
Rape is a climax of some fiendish novel.
And the souvenir of this always haunts. It does. A lot. Before reaching this extent, each demon goes through some tiny crimes which we all neglect. The Laws neglect.
And stepping on those stairs the demons finally reaches on the terrace of Rape.
I apologise for not raising my voice before some molestation at bus stop or some public place.
I apologise for not speaking out against the abuses.
I apologise for not shouting against the unjust,
happening in our daily life!
I am a lass of 19.
And so I can disintegrate the mean.
But oftentimes, before the red eyes,
I can't make the cut, clean the dirt!
Sometimes, I can't bring
a tint of peace amidst the brawl
and so I do apologise for all!