You Were Not There

Yes, you were not there
When they seize my scarf,
from my head

You have not seen them,
Entering my house,
at darkly nights

They deliberately chose,
our lone store room,
So to mix tea leaves with turmeric.

there I used to peep,
from a small hole in fright.
my mother’s cries,
and wails for hours
till they numb her
with many kick strikes

you have not heard,
those abusive shouts at me
when I angrily gaze at them,
for the mess I see around

how it feels!
when they hurl
a hundred stones
not to break the window panes
but the stillness of the night
when they deprive us of
our lone bread earner.

you were not there,
to bear witness to all.
the night they came,
like a huge tornado whirled him long,
till he spins

their pushes and slaps,
i still hear those claps.
and that hard beat,
after every long beep

just in fear of assault,
i couldn’t even ask for our fault.
i saw, i mourned,
in silence,
like a calm seashore,
now my brother is no more

My mother in sprain
not feeling any pain.
my father silently weeps
not letting tears, down on his cheeks.

and i am here on streets
Fearless of any harassment
will throw same stones at you
which you hurled at my house

i will chase you to run
like you do to my brethren
i will snatch your rifle
the way you seize my scarf.

i will return the traduce
your maligning abusive slurs,
mere a trailer that I have shown,
as you deprive me of my comfort zone.

(The views expressed by the author are her own.)