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Abhijeet Krishnan

Tragedy Inspirational Others

4.8  

Abhijeet Krishnan

Tragedy Inspirational Others

A Bold Woman's Struggle and a Lustful Man's Misery.

A Bold Woman's Struggle and a Lustful Man's Misery.

5 mins
342


The night was cold,

All the liquor was sold,

The streets crawled with drunkard men,

And a lone woman trying to keep her bold.


With each step she took,

Men gave her a creepy look,

As fear clasped her, she curled her arms around her chest,

Oh, wait wait,

For those lustful men, it was just an enticing pair of breasts.


As the situation tightened, she paced her stride

From behind came men saying “Babe, do you want a ride?”

She tried to ignore them, as she drifted towards the side

But another man cornered her, a man who will never have a bride!


The wind howled, swirling with dust

The men howled, swirling with Lust

The lone lady feared, and she curled tighter around her bust

Because under the dark, there was no one around to trust.


The man behind her slid her fingers over her skin,

Her heart fluttered with fear, as if pricked by a pin,

For these men, there was nothing called sin,

As they pressed their mouth in hers, their breath filled with gin


Quickly, other men swooped in

Each holding her tight,

She cried, she wailed, she wanted to fight,

But no one listened to her, in that dreadful night.


At these moments of fear and pain, the bold woman shifted her focus inward

Keeping the image of a god in her mind, she blurted out prayers like a song of a bird,

Hoping for a miracle, and wailing for some strength,

But there came no help at all, nor Lord Vishnu’s Tenth!

Moment by moment, the men stripped her out,

But the bold woman didn’t lose hope, and didn’t stop to shout,

The cold wind pinched her skin, as she lost her attire

“Please help me out, oh wind!” she prayed, “Please douse this lusty Fire!”


Naked on the lonely street, the men plunged on her from each side,

Her lips, chest, belly and hips, all twisting in different directions, as if she were on a frenzy ride,

She shivered with the lick of the men, she cried at each bite of the men,

And with each passing moment of fear, pain and crying,

The boldness inside her faded, the strength inside her vanished,

She lost hope, she lost her faith of rescue, and her mind filled with a single emotion,

A single image of the whole society looking at her, with those sympathetic eyes,

And that one single line which she feared the most,

“She is a Raped woman; she is a weak woman”


What happened after that, she would never have remembered,

With each man she experienced inside her that night, she trembled,

But the very shock of it had made her numb from top to bottom,

She was fortunate to land in an ICU, and not a post-mortem.


She woke up next day in the hospital, although from inside she felt dead

“Woman in short clothes was raped” the shitty news headlines read,

Parents and relatives surrounded her, some with tears and some furious,

Police came in, with the lazy constables who are not concerned but just curious

In a few days, the social media flooded with sympathy-posts,

Some media houses exploiting the fresh content to the most,

For a few days they criticized the issue, for a few days some leaders acted concerned,

And then all the stories, articles, talks and discussion vanished away like a street ghost!


Against those lusty men out there, they filed a case of rape

But what was the point of all this right now, the woman thought, when she was already exploited by the lustful ape,

She looked at her beautiful body, she looked at those curvy shapes,

And she asked herself just for once, “Is it wrong to be a woman?”

Only if she were a man this would not have happened at all,

Or maybe if she was born ugly, she would have been happiest of all,

Maybe she should have returned home early, because the night is reserved for those lustful monsters,

Or maybe she should have dressed fully so she could be much safer.

All such thoughts kept hammering her mind,

“Is this world even worth living?”, she thought

She thought of leaving, she thought of death.


Maybe it is not about the safety of woman after all,

Its rather a lack of humanity in the men.

Men have become slaves of the lust,

Treating women as if they were specks of dust.

The more we try to fight such men, the more they bounce back,

Because it is just a tiny bit of perspective that they lack.


Throwing such people in jail,

Only to get them out later by bail,

Then wait until they lose control once more,

Only to repeat the cycle again.

The solution is not to put them in jail,

Because jail is for those who overuse their freedom, their liberty,

Jail is for those who need to realize the suffocation of confinement,

To realize the ambiance of slavery.


But what we forget is that these men, these lustful men, are already slaves,

And a slave on the street or a slave in the jail, it doesn’t make any difference at all!


Well then what is the solution oh dear lord?

If it were in my hand, I would have sent them away from the city,

Forced them into meditation, banned their alcohol

I would have forced a better lifestyle, rather than forcing them to jail.

I would have shown him how there is much more beauty in nature than a human being,

I would have shown him how there is much more pleasure within ourselves, with every social work, with every little thing around us, with every breath!

If pleasure is all you look for, I would have shown him better ways.

With proper guidance, maybe he would have improved.

Maybe the monster would die to give birth to humans?

Or maybe we can say that the monster will die,

To let the human, which was always there inside, to live again!


Maybe they deserve punishment a certain level, but is that a solution is all I ask?

If it were someone who was close to me, I would have desired the same thing.

A strong punishment, a strong desire to beat the man top to bottom.

Maybe I would have felt much happier if that person was to be executed for the same.

And the person would be gone forever, but the memory would still haunt the victim and me till the last breath.


And then, like the man, even we will go away from this world!


We will also be freed from the cycle of that hurtful memory and the desire for vengeance.


Yes, you will be freed from the cycle…

But in the end, the cycle will still exist, without a proper solution, and keep sucking in more players into it, more men and women to feed the almighty lust!


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