The Beasts Run Wild

(This particular poem was written after reading about the most horrendous crime of our time - the Nirbhaya case)

We all have violence in us,
A terrorist, a rapist, a murderer,
There’s great courage, too,
A fighter, a protector, a nurturer,
The beast is in us, we are not in the beast,
Truth is, we choose who we wish to be.
If the beast runs wild, within and without,
Neither our roads, nor our women are safe,
If rape saddens us,
It somewhere also tells us that we fear for ourselves.

If in a free country men without title can strip a woman like flesh off a chicken bone,
Then what do we need the men with titles for?
Why don’t the hands of power crack the whip?
Why do petitions need to be signed?
Why don’t the men in Khaki, khadi just do their jobs?
Isn't that’s why we cast our votes, to be kept safe from this senseless rage?
If each man’s for himself than what do we need the government for?

Perhaps our system is a failure; no country can be free if its people live in fear.

I also wonder if the gang-bangers feel any shame?
Have they not come from a womb, from between the legs?
Were they born any different from us?
Or did their mothers leave them in a garbage bin when they were born?
Maybe they should have.

What is the solution i don't really know,

Maybe we could start with teaching a child, 

Respect your own body and that of a woman,

The contours, the love, the milk in her breasts, the compassion in her eyes,

See past her legs, thighs, past her clothes,

See that she has a bit of you in her,

She hurts like you and she cries like you,

Please don't hurt her, love her and protect her,

And never, never shame her the way some men do.

The Song Of The Sufi Masroof