Of all the dastardly sins in the world –
None reeks of such depravity…
Than spilling the blood of the fairer sex –
taking the life of a goddess in its brevity.

Killed, before she is even born…
Mutilated and raped by force.
Widowed in wars, burnt for dowry…
Maimed, as she helplessly cries hoarse.

But, you do not kill a goddess.
You gaze at the universe in her eyes.
Get lost and laid in its darkness –
Only to be discovered in her sunrise.

You listen as those eyes wax eloquent
about her deepest and darkest fears.
How she was branded vile and pagan –
and abhorred for all these years.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
With sinning hands you touch her breasts.
And on that heaving landscape you study –
the seismology of her hurried breaths.

Plucky gasps of air escape in stealth –
the gag of his strong and brutal hands.
Being the last wisps of life that remain
In the crypts of her poisoned glands.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
You gently caress her luxurious skin.
Massaging it with a love so intimate –
Nourishing the divinity that lies within.

You trace her scars and map her bruises –
And with every kiss you try to heal…
For beneath her blinding beauty are,
wounds she must no more conceal.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
You worship her even as she bleeds.
Knowing that her altar awaits you –
To fulfil the most primal of your needs.

In the heat of the passion she evokes,
Erupts the lava of your molten desire.
Fanned and fuelled, by her lissom body,
The chastity of the night catches fire.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
For her blessed womb is your shrine.
Wrapped inseparably in her warmth is,
the tiny flag bearer of your bloodline.

She cultivates in her sacred fertility…
The seeds you passionately watered.
Screaming, as those that look like her –
at your hands get mindlessly slaughtered.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
You rather wage a war in her name.
Against those who sacrilege her modesty,
And put the entire humanity to shame.

You take her under your protection –
And punish the monsters assaulting her pride.
You fight for what she deserves since long –
A world where she no longer needs to hide.

No – you do not kill a goddess.
You let her rule and reign supreme.
Install her back in the pantheon,
And let her divinity glow and gleam.

For she can be a benevolent protector,
and the most ruthless destroyer as well.
Revered, she can help you rise to heaven…
Scorned, she will ensure you rot in hell!


NISHANK MEHTA  |  18.07.2016

The Blade of Rose


blade of the rose

In a world desecrated by loathing and lust,
she stands as civilization’s last beacon of hope.
In an unfair race run by rancorous men,
with profound dignity and grace does she gallop.

Persecuted and manipulated since countless ages,
she went through it all with a humiliating muteness.
Peeved by the brutality of the stronger sex,
she was forcefully tamed and rendered speechless.

God blessed her with such a breathtaking beauty,
that ships sailed and wars were waged in her name.
But she was turned into a toy for amorous men,
as they engaged in their own narcissistic game.

As a mother, she housed him for nine months in her womb,
and then showered him with a love so ferociously pure.
As a wife, she blindly supported all he undertook,
and stood by him through all that he had to endure.

As a sister, she tied her prayers to his wrist,
and let him become the luckier of the two siblings.
As a daughter, she did for him all that a son could,
but still failed to garner the best of his feelings.

Today, she has proven that she has all that it takes
to confront the wicked world and find her place in it.
And yet, we still grudge her that lawful equality,
and prevent her dark life from ever getting lit.

Every breath of hers has been a veiled cry of anguish,
as she yearns for a chance to give her dreams a chase.
But now she is indeed making her presence felt,
getting ready to bid adieu to those accursed days.

Yes! She is rising…like some phoenix of heathen lore –
beyond the injustice that has crippled her all these years.
Finally breaking free from the cocoon of coercion,
she is learning to conquer the worst of her fears.

She is waking up from the paralyzing ignorance,
that had eased her into a wretched life of submission.
No longer will she be subservient to his lechery –
nothing will now deter her from defining her ambition.

Do not seek to resist this rebellion…
Do not snatch back this moment of triumph from her.
Do not make her go through hell once again…
Do not deny her the right to progress and prosper.


NISHANK MEHTA  |  30.05.2009