'No'

-
The path she chose,
was the path she walked
With each passing step,
she felt she was mocked
The night was cold,
as cold as ice
Her heart skipped a beat,
as she remembered the cries
She cut and she bled, 
and he trembled in fear
Her eyes rolled skywards,
with the whispers hard to hear
Her gaze was bare, 
as bare as the night
Her blood tricked down, 
as the moon shone bright
There he stood, 
as dead as a desert
Her voice was loud, 
a voice to assert
"Enough" she said, 
with the sharpness of thunder
For she was done, 
covering his blunder
Her eyes met his,
as it stared into his soul
The deep dark within, 
was all set to maul
Respect is a request, 
if not a demand
And "No" is the answer, 
if not a command.


Comments

  1. UnknownNovember 24, 2020 at 8:30 PM

    Very beautifully articulated !! The sensitivity of the issue is addressed with great care 👍

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

'Conjuring Castle'

-
It was one of those rare Monday mornings that didn’t feel like a punishment. For a person who usually feels the full weight of 'Monday Blues', the sky blushing in streaks of orange and rose made me forgot that it was the beginning of a workweek. The air was crisp, not cold, and the golden hue of the rising sun spilled across the city like a warm promise. I walked into the office, coffee in hand, watching the world get busy in slow motion. The always busy building buzzed with the usual Monday energy. As the keycard beeped opening the door to the usually expected clattering of keyboards and morning grumbles, a strange stillness greeted me in. Surprised, I struggled to find some familiar faces for comfort. I absent-mindedly wondered if it was the right floor only to find my practical side reassuring me that the doors open only with the correct keycard.  I hopelessly screened through all of my memory files to find any trace of a missed memo about additional leaves as I wandered thr...
Read more

Wayanad, Am I to be blamed?

-
Wayanad, Am I to be blamed? As I walk alone in this journey  Defaced, dejected and distraught  I hear the cries of death and mutilation wondering if, I am the one to be blamed. Constantly torn and disfigured am I  But you never hear me groan My patience and strength,  a boon or a curse  I wonder if I am to be blamed. As I walk further tainted and bruised I constantly wish to be whole again Those sleepless nights of fear and death I wonder if I am to be blamed, again.
Read more

'A Trip Down the Culture Lane...'

-
"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots." - Marcus Garvey Socialist Republic of Vietnam, a country with rich history and deep rooted culture welcomed me with open arms on a drizzly morning of June. The sun which had set behind the majestic mountains overlooking the Garden-City heritage themed Terminal 2 of Kempegowda International Airport the previous evening had decided to resurface behind a fleet of green aeroplanes with the markings of Vietnam Airlines, parked in the east of Noi Bai International Airport. The red flag with a yellow star in the middle hoisted proudly on all the available posts in Noi Bai International Airport told a story of its own, a story I was keen to listen. But, the rising sun had already woken up my internal clock which had in turn convinced my stomach to produce digestive juices in anticipation of a sumptuous breakfast. Thus began the quest for some Vietnamese staple, Pho or the traditio...
Read more