Hathras
If god forbid, you have a daughter in Uttar Pradesh,
let godlings be with you, village deities,
bell-god ghanta karan, before you reach Badrinath,
gods of cattle pens, high pasture spirits,
glad to be near a goatherd’s twig fire.
For it’s ‘high caste’ hoodlums
who’ll despoil her, break her neck,
wound her tongue, how else to silence her?
Doctors will fight shy of saying
she was raped, and an ADG,
that means an Additional Director General of Police,
will emphatically say she wasn’t.
Past midnight she’ll be cremated,
mother will not be shown her face,
sister won’t see her ravaged body.
Security reasons, enough fuel here for riots.
Other castes could say, so far so good,
a cobbler’s family, or a hide-flayer’s daughter,
but hell’s bells, tomorrow could be mine!
Also read: ‘Rape Nation’: Meena Kandasamy Poem on the Hathras Case
Meanwhile your village is barricaded
and some magistrate tells you
‘TV guys will vanish, and so will politicos,
and you’ll have to settle with us, buster.’
The village will be lashed with 144.
Protesting leaders will be felled;
No one in the Cabinet will say boo, and Mr. Bisht
gets 20 FIR’s filed against unknown people.
UP is not the right home for daughters.
Whether India is a better place,
we can discuss later.
Keki N. Daruwalla is a poet, short story writer and former IPS officer.