Satish Verma

In a death-trap of a stadium, 
as if I am stoned to death. 
Chrysanthemums bloomed in vain. 

On your body three beasts climbed 
for ravaging a fawn. 
The rape was only your fault, 
you had to die. 

When a crowd of thousand bystanders 
came to watch your mutilated body, 
you had left for home, 
uncrying and bleeding. 

A human soul, 
Now a script will be protected. 

Stones leap to praise the ghosts.