Raththi

(Previously published in the Tuck Magazine on 3^rd November 2015)

 She was Raththi, black and white

 A loving grandmother to the children

 She played with them running

Throughout the garden

 A milky spring of endearing and enduring affection,

Definitely was she

 As time passed by,

 The infirmities of old age enveloped her life

 So in one cold evening

When even the sky was heavy with dark clouds,

Blackened like charcoal,

 A belching vehicle came  

 A slight breeze stirred the branches

 The small bell around her neck was untied

 She nodded her head quite tremulously

 Raththi was loaded to the truck which then hurried off

While the beady eyes of the children

Were floating in a pool of tears 

 

 She was dumped in a gloomy, wired hut

 It was then the morning

 A big, gaudy man clad in black appeared

 A picture of a monster was glaring in his shirt

 He cackled with delight

Muttering, “good gracious”

 “Bhaaaaha”, the long, loud yelling

Spreading over miles and miles

 With a repellently repetitive echo

 Paws were stretched but in vain

 All of a sudden there was a fountain of bloodshed

 As the flesh-hungry chopper

Pierced through her body

 Her limbs were still struggling against each other

 Thus the scream ended with the last breath

 

 Blood staining, stinking huge flesh slices

 Placed on stalls with labels

 “1 kg – Rs. 200”, “1 kg – Rs. 250” and “1 kg – Rs. 300”

 It was the share of her heart

That demanded

The highest price.

 Skinned flesh cords, curdled with blood

Hanging down from the blacking grey rack

 Yes, exactly they were Raththi’s!