Walking back home through the boulevard,
I realized some child cry hard.
With etched fear, I decided to see,
What it could actually be.
Peeping through the air vent,
Being able to see to a small distant.
I noticed a girl(barely teen), and a fat man,
Who was likely to be her headman.
I couldn't forget the face of that angelic girl,
Tear filled eyes, yet it silently glittered like pearl.
Hiding there,nothing much I could do,
But empathize, as her master hit her black and blue.
Cries of hunger and pain as she braved through the daylight,
Unable to stop the dirty men, who pounded and raped her every night.
Her innocent heart cried for survival,
For there was no way she could escape from this brothel.
Loud screams and mourns shatter my every night sleep,
Just when my dreams begin going deep.
To the other side of the wall,
A drunken neighbor, strong and tall.
Abusing, smacking and pelting anger on his wife,
Unable to bear the pain, she cries for her life.
She begs him to stop, she literally pleads,
The louder she pleads, the harder she bleeds.
Those cries get louder and louder with each blow,
I'm wondering why's he torturing her so ?
She's mostly locked behind the door,
Always forced to stay indoor.
One tired night, I managed sleeping with ease,
Assuming the couple have settled for peace.
Morning comes and a gathering crowd wakes me up,
Hearing her death news, I start getting hiccup.
She ended her life, committing suicide,
For she couldn't enjoy life as a bride.
I had tears seeing her emaciated and disturbed kids,
who remained mum, like mouth shut with lids.
This is cause, they have seen her suffer,
and her wound become bigger and bigger.
I leave, asking God to protect her tortured soul,
Allow her to reach heaven, an ultimate goal
Domestic violence, Domestic violence till when?
Why do these men show their anger on poor women?
If drinking alcohol is the reason,
Some major action has to be taken.
For, domestic violence hurts and kills,
Families and relationships, stop and stills.
I wish men stop the hitting,
Enjoy life calm and chilling.
For they can see their family smiling
And happiness spreading. . .!
This is a promotional video of Bell Bajao campaign - which is against domestic violence
This was my first case of the day,
After a long visit to native and stay.
Reading this case sheet, I entered the ward,
Saw a young girl pray to lord.
With a worry etched, deep in her face
I was lost for a while, standing in my place
Her reports were yet to come
Hours since they collected serum.
Weeks ago, everything seemed fine,
She was good and feeling sublime.
It was by accident,she found this lump
not too big, but quite a bump.
She had developed pallor,
Also there was rising fever.
Doubts of cancer raising in my mind
But decided to wait and find
Soon her reports arrived,
Bad news from the sample derived.
Never knew how to convey,
So I began looking away.
Is it fine, Is everything ok, caretaker yells,
Yes sir, just a battle between red & white cells.
With a quick walk, I went.
Her dad frowned, knowing what I'd meant
Later I explained about chemotherapy,
The only possible remedy.
Scans done,A malignant tumor it was indeed,
Growing at an unbelievable speed.
I start the first cycle, without any wait,
For her life was now her fate.
Her therapy would go on for a few week cycles.
She was back month later, unable to face the battles.
I cant believe, its the 21st century,
Almost everything has changed so swiftly.
But still, there remains a curse,
Making its effect being felt immense.
This is the curse of poverty,
With its sound loud and raspy.
I cant believe, people struggling to strive,
Really unable to thrive.
Children and men who exchange sweat for some price,
But end up fainting, dreaming a mouth full of rice.
This is the curse of poverty,
With its sound loud and raspy.
I cant believe, seeing a beggar search warmth on a cold night,
Braving with a shawl under the moonlight.
There are millions, who live like this on street,
Strolling here and there, to find something to eat.
This is the curse of poverty,
With its sound loud and raspy.
I cant believe, a defeated mother poisoning her children,
just because poverty was her burden,
I see many of them living with major health ailment,
with sick and dying children, unable to buy treatment.
This is the curse of poverty,
With its sound loud and raspy.
Walking back home through the boulevard,
