Tag Archives: Narendra Modi

The Nirbhaya Chronicles – December 28th, 2012

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! )

Nirbhaya seems to have silently protested.

On leaving India, her blood pressure collapsed

Midflight, but doctors kept her alive and nested

Till she was wheeled in, and half-day had lapsed.

Her condition’s critical now, but sadly even here,

Politics has played out its dirty and shamed hand:

Safdarjung doctors handed her to a private band,

To Naresh Trehan’s Medanta, a private belvedere.

The doctors who kept her alive, barring just one,

The government chose to sideline and shun,

Retaining their fancy for their private buddies,

Like an arty upturned moneyed nose for nudies,

That you and I are hard-pressed to understand,

Quite like debating the beginning of an engarland.

 

 

Another inheritor says something asinine.

The President’s son’s (sc_ew his name)

Sexist take on women protestors is acauline.

From the safety of a TV channel it came.

Imagine him saying with the same temerity,

The very same words at the stormy India Gate,

Tempting then the predictable hands of fate,

Which would have peeled his pants with alacrity,

And whipped his a_se till blood, red not blue

Ooozed out, to diabolical laughter that’d ensue.

Meanwhile another a_se will be overdue in getting taken,

As a woman is gangraped in Delhi, and quite shaken

Must be all those who thought the deterrent’s missing,

And that once that happens rapists prefer choir singing.

 

Mount Elizabeth Hospital is matter of fact,

That Nirbhaya’s condition is extremely critical.

She’d even suffered cardiac arrest that had

Inflicted more damage. And the apical

Possibility of neurological damage looms.

But now she’s far way and the news is slow

In coming and it somehow lacks the glow,

The glimmer is now is suffused with glooms.

It’s almost as if the agitation was her heartbeat,

And so it stopped three minutes on leaving the leet.

Now suburban prayers with candle marches.

Replace frantic agitating under colonial arches.

And now when a girl saunters to some lonely stretch,

She is cross-eyed, and sees in every man, a letch.

Three sonnets covering each day of the Nirbhaya period will be posted everyday. Follow them here on ‘WordPress’ on www.nirbhayasindia.com or through my twitter account: @nirbhayasindia 

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The Nirbhaya Chronicles – December 23rd, 2012

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! )

 

Now the frustration shows in various ways –

Protestors are now knocking any door,

Where the nameplate authoritatively says,

That inside is a privileged government bore.

Now they’ve landed at the President’s place,

And made sure that they engaged the police,

Facing lathis, tear gas water cannons with ease

Like a pugilist inviting blows to his face.

When night fell, and pushed till India Gate,

There after regrouping, without abate

They closed the day, with a score satisfying.

Thirty-five were injured but still not belying

Any let up in the agitation, that is now turning into habit,

Only an ass (they are) will fail (they do) to see the revolution in it.

 

 

They would bleed, then return from hospital

Back to protest. They would vandalize buses,

Damage property; anything handy they would hurl:

Bottles, shoes, bangles, coins, stones and choruses,

Where the word ‘revolution’ was oft used like a cry.

And every time the police cracked on them,

They would return with a vengeance that would stem,

From the need to tire the state and to try

The patience, and indeed to even provoke

Bloodshed, that will then go further on to stoke

The passions and fervor, which they seem to want

To remain, not ebb, till the historical tryst and taunt

Brings to its knees the so-called ‘state’ and mis-named ‘nation’;

Till the old wilts, and new shoots spring from the agitation.

 

A UP minister with a criminal background,

Had a demented take of an illiterate imbecile,

That protestors (who the police’s trying to pound)

Are doing all this for publicity, is his spiel.

This comes from the mouth of Raja Bhaiya,

A don with eight criminal cases registered so far,

And a shining and apt example of an a_se ajar,

Through which such talent taunts the abasia,

Of our ‘hard working’ picture perfect democracy,

Where criminals arrive with audacious abbacy.

The gruesomeness is more in hinterlands cold:

In Vadodara, a man has raped a two year old.

The rapes that are reported, is the tip of the berg,

That we are ‘developing’ is present continuous humbug.

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 

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