India’s daughter

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Every time an India’s daughter is born

Another one of it’s daughter is

Ripped out of her clothes and

Done things which she doesn’t even

Knew was possible,

Because these things shouldn’t be talked about.

Mothers thinks that it is not pious

To talk of these things.

Because mothers are scared of their daughters.

Because mothers asks daughters to shut up,

To not ask questions about these things,

They asks their daughters

To remove their lipstick

To keep quiet, to not react

Because their mothers

Told them exactly the same.

Each time an India’s daughter is born

Bharat Mata exiles one of her son.

Because he robbed her of her name’s Chasity and

One of his sister’s dignity.

”All Indians are my brothers and sisters”.

India apparently have goddesses,

But it’s so vain, because they never leave

Their temples, they’re rock, they died years back,

They never talk, they’re never asked to sit with

Their legs closed or midrifs covered.

India’s daughters weren’t goddesses,

They felt pain, every time they came into her.

Each time an India’s daughter is born

My mother cries, and kneels down to pray,

Asks me not to go out late, not to go out at all

Because India isn’t safe, not even in broad daylight

Because here a mob with a stick can strip a woman naked and

People will only blame her,

Saying that she was the one,

Who walked into the crowd.

India’s sons should know that

India’s mother isn’t happy every time he hails ‘Jai’ to her

Because her daughter’s lays in open pools of blood

With open legs and open screams and everyone is just watching.

This,

Is India.

And I don’t want to be

India’s next daughter.

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