Every morning a bird used to occupy
A tree branch close to my bedroom window
And play Beethoven’s symphony at her own will…
I could deaf ear the cock’s crow but not this melody-
I wanted to sleep few more minutes or sing like the bird,
But neither could I catch her nor could I learn her art…
So, one morning I kept an airgun under my pillow
And made a covert aim on the unaware target;
In seconds my morning crisis was solved!
When I unfolded the newspaper on tea,
Every bastard wants to know in this country:
Why rape is emerging as the only path to salvation?
- Anunoy Samanta
(Written for NaPoWriMo 2013 - 30 Poems in 30 Days challenge!)