Immune. Immune. Immune. We’re immune.
Illustration/Uday Mohite
Incensed. Aggrieved. Implode. Numb. Repeat.
Incensed. Aggrieved. Implode. Numb. Repeat.
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The deadly cycle. A vicious cycle. A vicious circle. Recycled. Repeated. Relentless.
A region burns. And burns.
A normal day in India.
No one speaks out.
The spectre of violence.
Met with the sounds of silence.
Immune. Immune. Immune. We’re immune.
Blind spots. Blood thirst.
Then the gangrape.
Viral. Venal. Vitriol. Voyeuristic.
And the cliches begin.
Those words of hollow reassurance.
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
Echoes. Empty echoes.
Monotonous echoes.
Hollow… shallow… empty promises.
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
And we wait. And wait.
A video shared…
The brazen guilty… the brutal guilty.
Parading the women, parading themselves.
Catch them, come on catch the barbarians.
Someone in the mob. Anyone in the mob.
“Catch us if you can,” they challenge.
Catch somebody, make him truly pay.
“The guilty won’t be spared”
“Beti bachao”, empty slogans.
The guilty are spared.
Because the guilty aren’t found.
Cops cop out.
Wheels within wheels…
Late night deals
In the corridors of power...
in the houses upper and lower…
Raised voices and clenched fists
Furore. Collective roars.
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“No stone will be left unturned to find the guilty.”
“The guilty will be dealt with.”
“Step down, Mr CM.”
Like stuck records.
We’ve heard it all before.
A nation shamed. Defamed.
Outrage. How can this happen?
The video revealed… first hidden. then unearthed. Two women shamed, defamed
A mob… cowardly men in numbers
Viral… issues spiral…
Shout, shout, let it all out.
“The guilty won’t be spared”
The sounds of silence shroud the sounds of violence…
Alt. Control. Delete. Reset. Reboot.
Incensed. Aggrieved. Implode. Numb. Repeat.
Incensed. Aggrieved. Implode. Numb. Repeat.
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“The guilty won’t be spared.”
“What now?” we ask.
The sounds of silence.
shroud the sounds of violence.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com
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