As I enter the field
I was taken aback
gathered in huge sum
to pounce over me
to prove their might
in the name of sport
in the name of culture
in the name of tradition
I was stabbed and jabbed
With fist and knuckles
My tails twisted, sometimes bitten
My ankles broken, even crushed
I was even jumped over and
Dragged down on the floor
I took a mad dash
On my way out
Piercing down the crowd
Hoping for it to get over soon...
Hoping for it to get over soon...
Rhythm of Melancholy
Reviewed by Gowthama Rajavelu
on
13:07
Rating:
Reviewed by Gowthama Rajavelu
on
13:07
Rating:
So true...I can feel for them!
ReplyDeleteSo true!
DeleteSome weird customs we have!
ReplyDeleteWell written.
This is merciless. Where is Peta? I think when it comes to our traditions, we allow every kind of nonsense. Moving poem.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is like a bull in a China shop...pun intended!!!Loved this..live and let live!
ReplyDeleteOnly difference is the bulls are the people and the China shop is the bull!
DeleteHa ha.. Very well said..
DeleteOh poor thing.. I thought Jallikattu was the event where they run the oxens through the fields. This is one is a little sad for the oxens :(
ReplyDeleteSad but it's very hard to make people understand.
ReplyDeleteYep extremely hard.. Poor creatures.
DeleteAha..and we say we have sixth sense, huh!? And..oh yes! We rush people who are hurt to the hospital, some even die..and we blame " all because of the bull".. what a drama!? Well written poem..strickes hard on the nail!
ReplyDeleteA touchy one, truth described very nicely, some things need change.
ReplyDelete