ANATOMY OF A RIOT

Who cares the worth of an issue
street cricket or defiling of Gods,
It needs a wish and an order
to set the spree into motion,
From burning of effigy
to flag march, peace committees,
All will follow in due course.

In between –
arson, looting and house burning is free
smashing cosy cars, so enviable
rape- an opportunity, not paying-
even an old whore’s price.
Blood drained out the tummies
making bullet holes, stabs,
like an illicit liquor haul.
Anti-socials ruling the day, or
the police and army equally brutal.

Then the Peace Committees-
flag marching the silent streets
sliced by cries of orphan and widows, homeless-
throwing to pounce a handful of relief.
Children with long straps hanging from waist band
of an oversized Bermuda
playing with used gas-shells, filling water.
A Commission sitting with a retired judge-
dragging till it is unstretchable.

In a fine morning before elections,
Government withdraws cases of
a riot long ago.
The ‘anti’s returning ‘socials’,
with high morale and renewed energy,
to be used on need, soon.

The retired judge,
with concave convex glasses,
yawns a long shy.
The fate of time extension-
hangs undecided.