These sonnets (each with the same fixed rhyming scheme) cover:
what India (us and the political class) was doing
when Nirbhaya (who symbolized the apathy of politicos) was dying.
To her memory. And to our awakening.
Let us continue our fight for a 2nd azaadi with the same verve.
( the links are clickable; so read about our representatives before 2014! )
Predict a landslide for Modi in the former;
A scrape-through for Congress, just the needful
In the latter – did they fail to hammer?
In Maimed Mumbai, the Sena’s begun,
The process of shifting the memorial.
Rajya Sabha’s done with the quota ordeal,
But Lok Sabha promises much more fun,
But Sena’s shifting seems too good to be true,
And Mulayam must now have a trick or two,
To puncture the sails of Mayawati’s yatch,
With something dirtier than whatever she’s got.
These two desperately need numbers in 2014,
Given their life expectancy and CBI’s guillotine.
After trying to thoroughly botch up FDI retail,
Mamata beamed winningly at industry captains,
Assuring them that her government wouldn’t fail,
Even on land acquisition – the U-turn was at pains
To appear convincing, to the natural lie detectors,
The simple one we intuitively have for protection;
Yet, almost immune to its inevitable detection,
She continued to bullshit the money attracters.
But midway Pawan Munjal exited the meeting,
Saying he wouldn’t invest in Bengal, (without seething).
A little bird says that he broached the FDI topic,
And Mamata’s response was rude and ectopic.
And so as usual she again achieved the exact opposite,
Of what she had set out to achieve – predictably quixotic.
Something intolerably mundane for Delhi
Happened again; and again shameless mention
Of it must be done, in the hope that finally
On some odd day, somehow, there’s ACTION.
A twenty-three old girl in a moving bus,
In pretty normal hours as normal can be,
Was gangraped by five bastards brutally;
Again, the holy police was far as Phoebus.
Stripping her, they then beat her brutally,
And threw her off the vehicle roughly.
Now after four hours of difficult surgery,
She’s on ventilator, and India’s angry.
Her intestines are ruptured, genitals injured,
And the thought crosses, where are the bastards.
Will they again first elude our fantastic police,
And then once caught, get off with ease.
Three sonnets covering each day of the Nirbhaya period will be posted everyday. Follow them here on ‘WordPress’ on http://www.nirbhayasindia.com or through my twitter account: @nirbhayasindia