In Her Time

We ,the devotees await for a year
to worship Her out of our deep-rooted fear,We adorer of her Godly shape,
think not even twice to undrape her crape.The skill is immense,
the beauty she upholds;
still it is a doubt at midnight,
for her to cross the threshold.
for 'nine' days ,the tableau is superior;
Her 'nine' months of labor goes in vain without his favor.The idols carved with utmost effort,but none paid attention to her discomfort.The louder she cried, the more she wept but no intruder left.The scars on her skin,
dismissed her closest akin.
Yeah well! The feminism prospered.
For men to understand what she suffered.Alas! A new theme for jokes to be served.The Lady, only you who can secure! even in Durga Puja,the city is safe on her arrival!
The cruel doesn't know humanity,I guess not even sanity.For he is brutal,he knows brutality.The flench on her udder,the act of the cruder,
the denude form without her consent,
blurred on the newspaper for them to comment.But the wailing ,the sobbing,
the effort with her hands,
the savagery on her thighs,
and then the tragedy of her mind.
The one you bowed to this night,
cried that night with fright.
But in vain was she dumped or burnt.
Is it an irony or a pardox?
You worship one, you rape another!
It is fine for men till she stands,
for you rapist will have nowhere to stand.Her voice did fade,her confidence did dwane,but Men, Yes you all!She will thrive, she will survive,
she will fight .For what is her right just to walk freely on the deserted street at night.The flower that did droop,the bud that did wither,will again bloom to her content,when the rotten hearts will ferment.And then she will walk with all her pride;as the rule of the nature states:triumph of good over evil in every fight.

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