Hang Them High!

Hang Them High!
(Against the brutal gang-rape in Delhi)

Hang  them high!

Hang all the rapists high

in the scorching deserts

and let their bodies be

snatched away and tear apart

by those hungry vultures.


Such animals don’t need any

Capital punishment, they need

to sever their burning hot ‘tools’

which they used as weapons

to injure the innocent girl!


What a bad time that women have

to live in danger all around with no safety

no law and order and no security!

They are safe nowhere, in schools,

on roads and even in the public  buses!

Seeing an alone girl those rapist men,

attacked her like wolves. Shame on them!


Rapist men demonstrate no insight

like sociopaths  forget that some day

their own sisters, mothers or daughters

could be brutally attacked

and raped in a similar fashion!

Women are not safe anywhere!

These six rapists not only tarnished

the sacred milk of their mothers, but also

have declared themselves as bastards!

They tarnished the name of their ancestors

and their country in the eyes of the world.


Death penalty for the rapists is like

redeeming them from sufferings

and  exempting  them  from serving 

the punishment of their crime!

The only punishment of their

gruesome crime can be

to make them impotent

disable  them to produce children.

Let them live to suffer with guilt

and humiliation of their crime.

Smear their faces with dirt

inscribe a word “RAPIST” on each

of their foreheads with black ink

and hang them high

stone them in public

Condemn them!






12.12.12 – After A Century

I opened a window of the past.
Looking through the wreckage
I found some jewels of  moments
shining  in my tears and turn
into multi-rays of colours.
When the first drizzle of the rain
makes the dusty paths fragrant
I walk with my bare feet
in the scorching desert of life.
In search of my home, myself!
Perhaps I have been wandering
and waiting for a century that
the loneliness will fade away.
The words spoken are lost its sound
with time they shed  their meaning.
The words written on the sand
 wiped out with time’s blizzards.

Still I am going and keeping
the flame of my wait alive
in the wind and rain while passing
through the desert with my feet bleeding.