Salute to real fighter

This poem is my condolence to Aruna Shanbaug, died 42 years after sexual assault in Mumbai.

May her soul find peace, comfort and blissful world!
Only warrior could fight brim battle, heart can live trapped in body bedridden for all full 42 years.
Her world remained inside body of flesh and bones that turned older, worn out in small chamber room of ward number 4, KEM Hospital, Mumbai.
Infinite pain, grief drifted through hospital window days and night, even death crept in shame, cried out aloud, and refused to touch her holy bed.

You -Real Idiot, half headed monster, dirty warm.
Not even monkey could dare to throttle her throat with dog’s chain.
How could you walk free after handicapping, her for rest of her life? That life is worse than staying in jail.
Just an idea left me in fury and fire, fall in deep regret with shaking humane heart.

Those are serving hands of nursing, who repented, protested, kept flame of life alive for decades.
They, one by one, struggled for her smile.
They protested to keep this assault alive, vivid stigma on justice system in this country.
Salute to you nurses, torch bearers of kindness, for your devotion and loyalty toward duty.

What the madness! What a human race!
Even her family turned back to take her in house.
Hospital opened doors for looters, murderer.
The place where wounded are healed, relived, and illnesses are wiped out.

Unfortunately, it’s India, the country where criminals walk free;
corrupts erupt, flaunt, defend, get elected, assault, harass, prey, kill, murder, f**k and s**t.

Journey called life

Long way to go,
Taking one step after other.
The journey with no end,
See beginning and move ahead.

Taking one step after other,
Through foggy clouds.
This beginning and moving ahead
Through torments of world.

Through foggy clouds, mist, and
Pendulum between past and future.
Through torments of world, worldly charms,
I plan to leave behind baggage of past.

Pendulum between past and future,
I see no high five goals.
Plan to leave baggage of past,
Walk forward and just be human.

I see no high goals.
But if just I ensure to
move ahead and upward,
I will reach somewhere in the end.

If I ensure to
reach somewhere in the end.
Through mysterious, labyrinth walks of life
Long way to go.

* I tried to write pantoum, a form of poem, in which second and fourth lines of stanza are repeated as first and third lines of next one.