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! )
Sheila Dixit first tries to align smartly.
When that fails, she’s now resorts
To pointing people to Home Ministry,
To whom the police here reports.
She demands the police chief’s resignation,
With a self-righteous sense of diversionary
Tactics that insult our intelligence, with her dithery
Cached under theatrical, counterfeit indignation.
But now poor constable Tomar has died,
Trampled under protestors who even tried
To help him as he lay writhing in deathly pain.
Nirbhaya’s better they say, but the situation’s insane,
For it often happens in events that make a revolution,
Innocent blood flows for duty-sake, and for despotic elution.
But they feel guilty about poor Tomar,
And that again is a point of stark difference
Between them and the political class’s demeanor,
Who deserted the police to mourn in silence.
Police Commissioner Neeraj Kumar
Was a pallbearer who led the mourners,
But sadly no politico, opportunistic careeners
Wanted to be seen there, so stayed afar.
Naturally in the wake of ‘high-handedness’
That the police is accused of, it’s adroitness,
To park all blame on the khaki underling;
Even Sonia chose to blame police functioning.
But what beats government this time is how the youth,
Minus political youth wings, have such incredible tooth.
BJP too has ducked under the table,
And has been busy with other matters,
That it deems more important like the fable
Of Karnataka that continues its chatters.
They’ve sacked thirty Yeddyuruppa pals,
And he’s threatened to yank their pyjama,
By going to the governor – real or drama?
And we’re prepared for a round of accusals.
But they will have be submerged under bigger sin,
Of the ceaseless agitation that’s now in chagrin,
As an unnatural silence from the other side
Causes an inexplicable feeling like a riptide,
Like a checkmate of sorts, like something suspended,
Hopefully not, like an infant’s breath suddenly ended.
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