Take my eyes...

By -
Dedicated to the new generation smart phones and social media that have made content creation and sharing so easy and compelling, at the cost of caring for the fellow human beings. Penned as a reaction to the news broadcast on television, and to the fact that the victim donated his eyes before he died. This is not intended to pass judgement on the onlookers, but each one of us is free to judge ourselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His body ripped apart into two,
With both the parts still alive,
Every moment life changing its hue,
He screams, 'help, I want to live!'

Was it a cinema — with all
Pale-eyed viewers around
He cannot trust it, was it his,
The blood spilling on the ground...?

Did anyone see the number
Of the monster that mowed him down?
He has no idea, but they are all mum
Their faces bland, with not even a frown

Then the fallen man sees Him -
The man with the funky gadget
There he is, standing, with
A good view of the dying body and spirit

Capturing his moments of fight
And the victory of his fate
All in full HD movie mode,
"But sorry, no helping hand...

It's a once-in-a-lifetime video thriller
Let me shoot it all, don't bother
To ask me for help, I can't call a doctor
Once I finish this, it'll be an honour...

TV channels will play it over and over
Both of us'll become heroes, brother!"

No light left to look out or within
In the dozen eyes staring at him grim
Rest of the world has moved on,
With the traffic, and the golden time

He decides, it's time to do the right thing,
While the soul is ready to fly, flapping the wing
He folds his hands hurriedly and screams,
"Take my eyes now, you need it, please!"




~~~~ In memory of the man whose body was severed into two parts, in an accident, and the man with the gadget who helped us see him die, in a viral video.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tumbbad: A cinema to take you on a trip to dark corners hidden inside you

By -
Image
All reviews have said so much about the visually stunning quality of the movie, Tumbbad . The rain shots, the dark and gloomy scenes and the visual effects... A less bollywoodish movie, way different from the visually loaded movies made in bollywood with extravagant graphics. It sure has graphics, which is just apt, not luxurious at all. It's a story that says greed breeds sorrow and destruction. Remember the story of goose that laid golden eggs? Never cut the goose, you will lose everything. A lot of effort has gone into making the movie suit the time period it is set in - right from the metal pipe used in kitchen to blow air into fireplace, to the old jeep-like BMW. But the scenes haunt even after you come out - after all, you just went into a dark, magnificent and magnanimous womb of the sacred feminine that protects the world from a darkest hidden secret... a cave of greed and bloodshed... and above all, you came out unhurt! Whether you will be able to come
Read more

This cinema explores a characterless city and its people

By -
Image
Gurgaon is a characterless, scary city that is expanding with no respect to the indigenous character of the topography and land. (Perhaps all cities are, but I got scared in Gurgaon for no reason!) I had been there in February 2017. I had attended a workshop that focused on how to restore water table in Gurgaon's residential and farming areas. A rich farmer who came in a Bolero to the workshop struck a conversation with me, and I got a hint of what they are made of. He went to the extent of inviting me to his hotel, which I declined, and after a week he even called me. When I came to know it was him I didn't want to continue the conversation. The Metro line cutting through the now-developing city had an eerie character to it in the area I was staying, with only malls and high-end buildings, no dhaba or no public transport - basically meant for only those who had cars and who could afford to go to restaurants in malls. DLF wanted Metro connectivity to CyberCity
Read more

Outgrowing the Greed

By -
Got to share this seemingly unimportant yet touching event that I experienced today, and many a times before. I have a strange habit of forgetting things. My purse is something I usually forget - in terms of frequency, it stands next to forgetting writing. It usually contains a credit card, a debit card, my office access card, canteen coupons and some loose change. Earlier my mobile also used to be in it, then after losing my purse for a couple of times I realised that keeping everything together doesn't work for my good. So I started keeping mobile separately. Yesterday I had again forgotten my purse on my work table, along with the pile of papers. Usually I clean up all the papers so purse safely gets tucked inside my handbag, but yesterday was a strange bad day for me, so I forgot to do it. I went home, kept my bag aside, and slept with my little one. This morning I did not care to check my bag, and when it was 4.15, I just left home with the handbag. Sat in an auto as
Read more

An odyssey of exploration—of the self and the world

By -
Image
"We are going to Tirupati in June," announced my co-sister, sometime in March. And I was elated— not because I'm a believer, but this was my chance to trek the 11-km climb to the Tirumala temple from Alipiri. The next few weeks were spent with zero preparation for the trek, and the D-day arrived in no time. On a hot Saturday afternoon, we were standing at the foot of the hill, while I stared at the steep steps and told myself, "no, I can't do this." But then, this happens each time, and I know I can march on and reach the top. Armed with a water bottle, a towel and glucose tablets, and no slippers on our feet, we start climbing up. The stone steps scorch the feet, forcing us to climb faster. Three minutes into the climb, my heart starts beating rapidly, and sweat starts inundating my body, when not even a few hundred metres of the trek are covered. The next 10+ kms seem impossible, and I just want to give up and start resting on the side platforms meant
Read more

No Rain, No Relief

By -
Hi friends, back again to my blog backyard, for some random ramblings. Well, where to start? ABCD of Rangoli Today I officially started learning how to draw Rangoli. I drew a few strands, and a few designs in front of the Tulsi vrindavan, that's there in front of our house. Know what, it looked exactly like what my two-year-old daughter draws! I learnt how to draw 8-petl flower, and Shankha (counch), and couple of other designs. Don't laugh... I'm still a learner yaaa. We the people in South Canara don't cherish such things much usually, but when in Bangalore, act like a Bangalorean. That too, when married to a Madhwa family to head that family, you have to be well-versed in all these! :-) Gardening Mania There are currently around 12 pots in front of my home, four of them just waiting for right plants to be planted. All those pots were kept by our aunty by the side of the house while the construction of new house was going on. It all caught cement, all
Read more

Weaving dreams and eternal optimism: Cinder-ella

By -
Image
There is hope, there is light. And it isn't elsewhere. It's in our hearts. And minds. I waited for two days to see whether this novel stays in my mind, before writing anything on it. It did, so I thought I should write. You know the first thing I did after reading this? I went to the first page of the novel on kindle, and gave a search for the word 'secular'. And the search returned with zero results. I am a fan of TN Seetharam's serials, though he doesn't do them anymore. What was it that made me wait for TN Seetharam's serials? It was the script /dialogue, and the story I was looking forward to. The twists and turns, political and legal thriller drama - different from other soap operas adhering to ready TRP formulae. The satisfaction of watching a TNS serial is what I got when I finished reading Soumya Aji's Cinder-ella. When I started off, I didn't know what to expect. As I proceeded, it looked like a triangular love story, a
Read more

Memories of a dead bird

By -
Once... I felt your memories like torn cotton strewn everywhere... I wished for them to make a warm blanket to enwrap me through the cold, cruel nights... But, now... Your memories are like scattered feathers of a dead bird flying in the sky Will a blanket made of them keep my heart warm? ******* The only puzzle, My dearest, is this: Did I blow a bubble In your dreams And burst it before You saw it for a bubble? Was it a bubble, Or was it real? ****** Do you see the tsunami waiting to rise up inside me? Don't you ever come to my world again, even by mistake... The waves trying to escape from me will spell doom for us, drowning both of us
Read more