new year in kolkata

this is the first time i'm writing a description of my poem, as it is quite important for the reader to know the context of this poem....i will request the readers to read my "author's note" first..

when the new year's first ray of sun

hits the earth, and tries-

to wash away darkness of night, or sins-

whatever you say,

i don't see a point,

a single point in my mind-

to be happy, or even feel a li'l fresh-

'cause, i have seen just now,

before my cursed eyes-

how easily a sixteen year old

in this civilized world, dies. 

i don't know what sun

can wash away a crime like this-

but i know lots of joy

celebrations are still on;

she wasn't a famous girl, not at least when alive-

even not when she was raped

again and again, by some beasts!

she wasn't a nobel-laureate, nor an oscar-winner-

'cause i don't know why else

no one is crying for her! 

they put her house on fire

locking her there, inside-

'cause she wouldn't ever keep quiet-

and lose to those disguised beasts-

she thought, she'd better die

at least the smell of her burnt skin,

flesh and 

ravaged youth-

might reach the joyous hearts,

of thousands of drunken men-

and their blindfolded wives;

it might as well reach the noses-

of power-sniffing leaders in their chairs

and spoil their meal for the diner,

compelling them to look down!

the burnt girl dies on her bed-

but keeps her both eyes open,

and i can see the fire-

it's still burning inside-

come on friend! who will it be?

who wants to become truly bathed

in a holy stream of water?

then put your hand inside

deep inside your chest-

bring out the drop of sun that you

have been saving for long!

come on, burn your hand-

it doesn't really hurt anymore-

it's time occupy the streets-

like we've never done before!

i don't see a new year coming-

as long i see some rapists win-

i don't feel like ever celebrating-

as long the roads are unclean-

i can't wash away the blood-

blood that i see on my hands-

blood that i see everywhere-

blood that's not going to fade, ever.. 

i see a sixteen year old.

raped, and burnt, on the road.

i see an enormous crowd.

stampeding her body, and yelling aloud. 

i keep questioning myself,

what has that little girl done-

to be punished like this! 

why even after her death-

society rapes her in peace?   

Author's Note

a month ago, a 16 year old girl was raped by a gang of goons.she filed a complaint.police remained inactive.the goons raped the girl again for complaining.then puts her house on fire. she was severely burnt and was admitted to a hospital having no burn unit.this happened 8 days before.yesterday that girl died. but my city is busy celebrating.so i thought of writing this poem.to respect her soul, if i can.

Reviews

[Dezelene]

I'm glad at least someone is writing about this. Everyone thinks its just a situation to be handled but no one knows how detrimental the aftermath is for the victim. This is really sad, may her soul rest in peace.

[Scott Metro]

This fills me with sorrow. Not much I can say..I think only revenge would begin to calm the heart on this one.
I've heard about this...I hope these beasts somehow have eternal pain.

Scott

[Coyote Poetry]

I wouldn't see any reason for a celebration. This is a very sad story. I don't understand how men can rape woman. They were raised by a mother, Grandmother and could of had sisters. It is sad the rapists were free to repeat the action. I will put her family and friends in my prayers. Thank you for sharing the story.
Coyote