Been wondering how to express. Still kinda unsure what to think… But, here’s something that emerged.
Also, to those who might not know about it, here’s a link.
Was it six months? Or seven,
Since that boulder blocked the narrow winding road?
Facing a gaping precipice?
Is it seven lakhs or eight,
That ministers make from their businesses?
Is it eight or nine million,
That plunged into poverty with their families?
Is it nine months or ten,
That mother’s hold their babies in their wombs?
Now showering with tears, their daughter’s lying in their tombs.
Is it ten or eleven,
Hours that it would take to set up one road bump?
To knock some sense into a senseless man,
Reeling behind the wheel?
Was it eleven or twelve children,
Or more, whose parents were casually snatched away from them?
Do those tender tears fulfill those sadistic desires?
Was it the twelfth or the thirteenth mile post,
Where their fates took a bend, and hope took a nosedive?
Was it thirteen or fourteen lives,
That was sacrificed at the altar of ‘Ministerial Merriment?’
Paid for their indulgences by the tax money of people in poverty,
Figurative became literal as they pushed the innocents,
Unceremoniously under the bus – the bus went under,
And we strive, as the boulders keep falling from above,
Thrown by white elephants speaking of Park and Drive.
We strive to survive – they thrive.