They beat her
with an iron leg,
and stabbed her breasts
with a despotic fork,
then they raped
her tussle, one by one,
over and over again
in the broad daylight
before her own Son.

Then they pierced
her eyeballs
with the darkness
of the light,
and pulled out
her tongue,
with the pliers
of abhorrence.

But yet satisfied
they were not,
so they
leeched her
brains out
from her head,
chopped them
into million pieces,
and threw them all
into the funeral pyre.

But yet, they could not
kill her thoughts.
But yet, they could not
kill her thoughts.

For it was,
an age of transition
in which,
the old feudal order
collided with
the new democratic offer.

And though, she was
virtually suspended
between two worlds,
the old world of decay,
and the new world of progress,
she chose the latter,
and gave us all,
the freedom - to sing
our own song.

Copyright 2006 Bhuwan Thapaliya


Pic Source: www.doyletics.com/ gmp/icart.jpg