Written by: Mehnaz Veetil

                  Not I, Then Who

Another blood bath. A bubbling bunch of innocence      
Shot down by an ogre, in brutal arrogance;                         
A busy mutter ‘The system is in pits',and done,                   
All sighed, time and again, lost  in deep reverence …                   

By lesser mortals a girl was quelled bestially, a mere decadence.      
Lost her life on board a bus, a public conveyance ;                            
said the folks again,’The system just feeds political hunger.’                       
Once more all sighed, time and again, in wrenching grievance.           

Thus, (we are) reclined in the cradle of excuses in ample luxuriance
Till one day a hurricane pounces, triggers petulance,                             
holds in whirls of life’s misfortunes. No trace of poised elegance.       
No sophisticated statements. No thick and proud prudence.              

No fondling of excuses in hands; Only pangs of helpless despondence.   
No claiming of those laid back excuses over forfeited chances;        
From all angles, volumes of consequences pry in variance 
No systems, no excuses; only victimized throes teem in abundance.