Poems on
Justice

The Girl in the Yellow Frock

a poem by Anagha

In those breathtaking valleys,
I saw her,
The little girl, in a yellow frock,
And blue eyes!
(Who said blue is for boys?)
With sheep…
What is she doing with them?
It was her age to go out and play!
She looks innocent when she talks,
And ethereal when she smiles…
Awe! You wonderful thing!

And then when I come back,
I see some men taking her somewhere,
Oh! The adults play with kids!
How lovely!
Its a temple!
What are they going to play there?
I wonder.

No! No! No! Noooo!
Don’t touch her you morons!
I scream at her cries!
She is just a kid!
I blow too hard,
Trying to make them stop.
But I can’t. I am weak already.

I look at him.
See, we are not like you humans.
(I wonder if I can still call you that.)
We can see him, your god.
All your figments of imagination, for that matter.

I look at him.
I see he is tied.
Bounded. Restrained.
He cannot act, he says.
Not when humans are fighting over him.
He was helpless too.
Like the girl. That poor little thing!

Her clothes are torn.
Its her blood everywhere.
The yellow is red now.
I can hear her labored breathing.
I can hear her fading heart.
I can see her dreams. A teacher,
She wanted to be.
But those dreamy blue orbs, now closed forever.
It breaks my heart.
I go from there.

After days when I come back,
I see them, those monsters,
Walking down the lane,
As if nothing happened.

When I go back to the temple,
People go there,
Asking for blessings.
And the blood stains remain.

I see the valley,
The one where I saw her.
Kids still herding sheep,
They are playing. Laughter everywhere.

Among the bushes,
I see another pair of eyes,
Lusting the child, in the blue frock.
The boy in the trousers has another story to share.
I leave.