Musings of a Delhi Boy

Well, I am heartbroken,

Burdened with a feeling of betrayal,

By our rich, & diverse culture,

Spanning a millennia old civilization,

Where women are worshipped,

As Goddesses, in avatars aplenty,

Knowledge and intellect,

A warrior, and a demon slayer,

A teacher and for justice,

But above all, as a mother…

Alas!!! in these troubled times,

Often, it seems a ruse, 

As we hear & watch, gut-wrenching news,

Of girls & women facing unspeakable atrocities,

At the hands of rampaging mobs,

For reasons unfathomable to me….

(+Unfortunately, use of girls and women as easy prey, to settle scores by warring men, continues to be an enduring, shameful, and thoroughly painful legacy of the partition riots, and is nothing new; even history is strewn with such examples- Draupadi)

(++Now, I shudder to open the news app I regularly follow, lest another mind-numbing horror blows out),

As events from the past flash in front of my eyes,

All this seems ever so personal, so near,

My soul shudders to the core, once again,

I mock at my inability to do anything,

Decades later, still a helpless victim,

The places are different, so is the context,

But the thirst for blood, and gore, glistening in the eyes of the marauders is the same,

Often, I sob silently, on thinking that everything could have been prevented,

Then, and who knows, even now,

If only hounds were not let loose by unknown hands,

Determined to take revenge, and teach a lesson,

Even as justice watched helplessly,

More often than not, when one of her own was a victim…

A feeling of impotence grips me,

I am pulled down,

Deep, deep, into a cesspool of fear,

My lungs race against time for a whiff of breath,

Even as my mind, in turmoil, is forced to think,

As to where we are headed???

Bearing the cross of this shattered conscience,

Or how far we can go, before we lose our way,

For all times to come….

Because, if hope has to be salvaged,

It must be done now….

I garner all my courage, and strength,

To come out of the ever deepening sinkhole,

And gaze into the future…..

I heave a sigh of relief, because, still, all is not lost,

As lasses soak in the abundance of monsoon showers,

On swings, hanging from mist covered branches of banyan trees,

Even as evocative folk songs are sung,

In a feeling of camaraderie and brotherhood….