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A heart-wrenching poem by Delhi, personified and in pangs of pain, after the recent riots, by Nalini, exclusively for Different Truths.
Beneath a pile of charred rubble
sodden with splattered blood
hanging on precariously to the
Half-rotten dead in the drain
killed in the name of God
now a bait of murderous mob
for the unsuspecting
who come looking for their own
I am Delhi
ravaged by my kith, shamed by my kin
I bewail my destiny
marked with massacre and pogroms
where justice is branded and auctioned off
to the highest bidder
I am Delhi
mourning the saffron atop the minarets of mosques
mobs chanting Jai Shri Ram in my lanes
to leave behind a bloody trail of men burnt alive
the stench of burning flesh nauseates me
I am Delhi
my days are filled with laments, night with wails
ripping open wounds of 1984
when death danced naked at the bonfires
lit around the necks of hapless men
I am Delhi
a witness to babes torn from mothers’ breast and butchered
my drains run red with the blood of the innocent
without Zafar to plead and implore for my own
and Ghalib to bemoan the slaughter of my lambs
my garment of affliction hangs heavy with filth
I am Delhi
Marathas, Nadir Shah, Abdali and Firangis
took their turns to ravage and leave me in ruins
scars left by marauders are again wrenched open
by those who murder to save their gods from infidels
beseeching Aidos, I am Delhi
daring daughters of Shaheen Bagh
‘too much’ women for saffron clad
with their hijabs, bangles and red dotted foreheads
are hope of the two nations born
swaddled in the bloodletting so mammoth
that its hundred heads multiply when severed
let them comfort me with their peace and patience
I am Delhi
Photo from the Internet
