By Jyotsna Dwivedi
It should have noticed the crawling shadows that stopped belonging to ‘people’
– ‘who belong to their own land’.
It should have noticed the fumes rising out of their whispers,
Whimpering ‘what about us, our children, our land’.
By Jyotsna Dwivedi
It is at 4 am in the morning every other day now,
When the mob birds, mob cows, mob men and women roam on this land.
Those birds sit on bloody bodies, bathe in their blood, feel giddy with excitement and erection.
By Jyotsna Dwivedi
Here are those daughters of mine, who were slaughtered, raped, killed in the womb.
Here are those daughters, who live in fear. Here are those daughters who live in shame.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 