THE BROKEN BANGLES OF BADAUN

THE BROKEN BANGLES OF BADAUN

THE BROKEN BANGLES OF BADAUN

On a languid summer night, from a village heard a scream,

No ear has perceived, thus it dissolved in a gushing stream.

Dangling on a tree, were two little girl’s shattered dreams,

Listening to the fading jingling of bangles were five evil beings.

Swung in an easterly breeze they resembled two butterflies,

Masticated on a spider web and left as skeletal remains.

Couldn’t even mourn, stood the tree so forlorn and helpless,

Yet amazed at how could be the humans behave so heartless.

Adown the cheek, one last tear drop blended with blood

That came welling from the parched lips and dried.

Burning it was, worthless though, in vain they woefully cried

With no one to save, they knew, but for their steadfast pride.

With forceful arms, at night when they were conquered upon

 Writhe in pain they cursed their elders who are weak and worn.

Quite dismayed over the fate of their own and the clan they born,

They fought, with that ineffable craving to live, a war all alone.

Those evil tongues who reached, spoke mighty words for applause

And made uncanny assertions to those souls in deep distress.

Grieving but beleaguered when they with high hope, disperse,

Behind the stage would unfold an uncouth unity of evil shepherds. 

They the so called ‘neoliberalists’, seated high on people’s throne,

Have their herds kept so safe in the places unknown.

And would they do aught but make mockery of the common,

Who are themselves caged in limits made by men of their own.

Arose harder, open your eyes and feel the power of democracy,

Get out of this downtrodden quagmire and enjoy that ecstasy.

You have, with utter strength, of unworn youth, a great galaxy

To build a world enriched with impeccable courtesy.

Never put your feet up, but raise your voice and head so profuse

To reach where your feet can’t and eyes so ambiguous.

The slothful mind and beseeching hands will never defuse

The plight that still, despite the progress, makes you hopeless.

The thick veil of amnesia will obscure the grief so soon

And again the mango tree will blossom unto the crown.

For the nation to wake up bright, not far away is the dawn

And then, in plenty, the seeds of rectitude will be sown.