It is one year since the day 'Jyoti Singh Pandey' was violated and ravaged by some bestial elements of our society. On that wretched night, 'nirbhaya' had a companion who saw it all happen. Today, more than anything else, my thoughts also go out to that broken man, and all that he represents. This attempt is the nature's lament, as it witnesses the 'evolution' of man, and parallel to that a fictionalized expression of grief connoting that very broken man, who on that day, in some ways, was as much a victim as the girl was.
The lowest ebb of a slow moving, cluttered, river
(The uncertain chills of an unannounced shiver)
The almost barren branch that watches its dry leaves take
forever to fall, and kiss the ground
(The word that garners shape with much struggle, but comes
out without a sound)
The conquered hill that has a shadow cast all over it as the
evening sun goes to sleep
(The heavy eyes and their brooding shadow when the heart
starts to weep)
The frantic chirping of a bird after it finds its eggs stolen
(The searing pain that hides itself in the piths of the
colon)
The disapproving stares of the stars, that filter through the
smog and the smoke
(The uneasiness that emanates from the belly, moving upwards seeming to choke)
The crustiness of the wind ridden by dust and grime
(The sweating on the palms that doesn’t cease with time)
The soil that refuses to engender life, reacting to the
drugs it has been fed
(The ugliness of an injury, whose skin has long been dead)
The winters that shrink, like the clothes do, as years pass
by
(The unremarkable feeling of loss that doesn’t evaporate,
however earnest be the try)
The bawling of the tree’s trunk when it’s felled
(The feverish anxiety of a failing dream that refuses to be
repelled)
The mountain boulders that take to retribution, on the roads lacerating
its soul
(The pounding knocks, of distress and ache, that take a heavy toll)
Inconsolable all of them yes…
(But not as much as his feeling of watching her being defiled and crushed, signalling a social abyss…)
God’s gifts all of them, with memories that would needle and
knead
(And his gift that would not return, however heart-wrenching be the plead)
- Piyush Dewan
- Piyush Dewan
