Lest we forget

Democracy lies sacrificed at the altar of anarchy Moral fibre in tatters, Irreparable, toxic waste In the air, in our heads The rhetorical question. this extreme violence. Latent angeru00e2u0080u00a6 or cathartic explosion?

A policeman lies, slowly dies, in a covered jeep, in an open field, a lifeless hand, a broken body, a frenzied mob scatters having savaged him, running helter skelter confident, the law will shelter Vendetta because he cared, investigated, unearthed, The brazen cowardice, the overt lawlessness, the planned spontaneity."

A politician, the main accused Lynch and run, Breaking the law, that's the fun. Hiding, biding his time, Under the radar, till the heat blows over, or another high profile lynching makes the news. Who will catch them, try them, convict them? Vigilante justice the emboldened mob, families sob. No words of remorse, vague reassurances by the force, by the powers that be, a visit to the family, empty promises A cash compensation, which may never come Till the next beating to death A cop targeted today… who tomorrow? What widows sorrow 'Lest we forget 26/11', 'Lest we forget Bhopal', How about 'Lest we forget Bulandshahr', 'Lest we forget Dadri', 'Lest we forget Kathua' In our motherland Every day, vicious thrashings, bashings Gau rakshaks, beef lynchings, Road rage, rape of the underaged The guilty never caught. Law and order in disorder, 'The criminals will be found and brought to justice' 'It was an accident' and yet they flee. Banana republic… a free for all. Democracy lies sacrificed at the altar of anarchy Moral fibre in tatters, Irreparable, toxic waste In the air, in our heads The rhetorical question. this extreme violence. Latent anger… or cathartic explosion?

Takes nothing, a minor scuffle, a small ignition for the gun to be drawn, the dagger to be unsheathed, The stick to come out stones to throw the venom to flow murder is easy… no fear of consequence No jail time… just bail time the accused walk You scratch my car… no calm chat Words of hate… a furious fit Hit hit hit An I for an I All I ask… Into that heaven of freedom… let my anger abate

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62@gmail.com

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