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Riddhima Apr 2018
as the mouth tries to speak
words of  damaged love
letters swept away by
imperceptible humanity rippling on the edges of the winds
where the girl swings
between unknown wings
and ruthless silence
as the facade bites her skin
Pray for Asifa
Keerthi Kishor Apr 2018
I'm sorry this ever happened to you.
I'm sorry you were just an 8 year old, so full of life and you didn't deserve this pain.
I'm sorry those pedophilic pigs preyed on your innocence.
I'm sorry you were born in India- a country powered by people, pioneered by strong men of principles but still feel powerless to protect its own people.
I'm sorry our laws are enforced to protect the lawless.
I'm sorry there is a *****, so possessed by religion out there who passed a mean comment on you.
I'm sorry there are countless many who favors his opinion strongly.
I'm sorry none of us could protect you or bring you back to life.
I'm sorry that I can only hope hell does exist and those men do rot in its deepest pits.
I'm sorry all of us can only sympathize and none of us can empathize.
I'm sorry I have no voice of my own.
I'm sorry my child, I truly am because you were born a girl.
I'm sorry to say how lucky I feel to be alive, that my sister or mother or friends are unpolluted and still breathing just fine.
I'm sorry this poem is pointless as the many hashtags that come and go after each **** but I had to write this for my own peace of mind.
I'm sorry as I can only sit back and pray there won't be anymore Asifas.
"I know I won't be able to sleep peacefully if I won't let this out of my chest. This poem is an apology to 8-year-old Asifa who was brutally gang-***** and killed in my own country, recently. I feel agitated as a female, disheartened as a woman, shameful as a citizen and feel powerless as a human being. I'm sorry Asifa, rest in peace."
Namita Anna Givi Apr 2018
On a late foggy winter night,
Walking down the lane with a heavy mind
For it was December and celebrations were at hind,
Harrowing two years, all alone in the metro flew;
Sacrifices for those pennies, for a perfect Christmas back home.

All seemed so near while chatting with him, my plans
Never knowing it was soon to be my “black day”.
Soon to be punched, tossed and gnawed upon
To be jeered and taunted, thrown off like a rag doll,
All for a reason of being born:
For being in this world, born as a ‘girl’.

Oh! in that hell on Earth, with those savage beasts
All alone. Do ask them, didn’t I?
Did I not beg, fall at your feet, as you tore off my tee?
Didn’t I bawl as every atom of me revolted your entry?
Did I not plead for a water drop, as every ounce of my energy drained?
Slowly it hit me how I ceased being a human, more like a prop for them.

Desperately I fought that day, **** and on my own-
Losing battles for my pride and for justice one after another,
Lying down on the road, I did hope for Santa to come early that year
Wishing he would put another day in my ‘Christmas stocking’.
Just to show these cannibals — how it feels,
To be left of nowhere — Neither dead nor living for 13 long days.

I know I am a dying light, yet I wish someone would kindle it;
Awake the sleepy heads across the nation to fight-
For there are more “Nirbhayas” across the country and the world
Battling against many more shameless dastards
Wearing innocent angel like smile in the morning,
But as dusk sets in, the Lucifer returns to hunt.

Find them, **** them — no, it’s not for revenge,
It’s from the brave heart, a prayer-
For there shouldn’t be another me… not now and not ever.
December 16, 2012, was a black day for people all over the world who knew her. And for Indians, it was a dreadful self-realisation, the superstition of ‘woman’ being safe when accompanied by a male figure was shattered into pieces. And a monster was revealed to the world, freaking out every female in the country and me, a then 17-year-old was one of them.

— The End —