BLOW-UP AT BHIWANDI
After the policemen
had stirred the sudden ashes
with their rifle butts,
peeled off their riot helmets
like tired ‘strippers’
at a lousy joint,
the town was quiet
In the morning
marijuanaed
with yesterday’s cries,
the Administration
took over,
Proclaiming
compensation
for the victims.
Circumcised
or otherwise.
And so she came
at the age of eight,
stating simply
that with religious fervour
she had been raped.
How does the
arithmetic
of compensation
work?
Will she be paid
with Gandhi’s picture
on the notes?
Will she be paid
ten bucks a piece
for her brave mother
drunken father
pregnant sister
and her sainted aunts
who died that night?
Will she be paid
for her baby brother
who must have wondered
why the nice man
from just across the street
was setting his bed on fire?
Will she be paid?
Or will her other
brother
rape
someone else’s
sister??

July 4th, 2008 at 4:26 am
I read thru this poem, again, and yet again, and every time I did so, my hair stood on edge. What a concised version of the whole saga that happened during the riots, and after…compensation et al…George like I said before and repeat, you rock man, you do!!!!
Rock on genius,
berna
July 4th, 2008 at 7:56 am
How deceptive appearances can be.
I would imagine that some cocaine sniffing “dreamer of dreams” would comment on my poems.
But you ? Solid citizen, loving wife ,devoted mother, pillar of our Church?
How wrong we can be about people…… and you have gift with words
Imagine an eighty year old “rocking” Rocking chair, you mean ?
I love you
George