Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Indian holiness

She was a pregnant Indian.
She was raped brutally,
Her womb cut open,
And her baby killed.
Another Indian, she was molested.
She was only five then.
The molester still uses the black board,
While teaching maths to five year olds !
A third Indian, she is daily beaten,
For her father's pocket isn't deep.
Her silence fosters the next day's violence.
Her husband fosters her funeral pyre.
The fourth Indian, she is on the road,
For she is no longer productive.
Four of her children abroad,
Can't take her for she has no passport!
The nth Indian, she is a seven year old maid.
Mistress beats and starves her.
Master rapes and beats her.
Their fourteen year old son molests her.
But I am an Indian cow.
No one can touch me, I'm sacred.
Not one can cut me, it's criminal.
You only can venerate me, I'm holy.
Want to kill, rape, eat or beat?
Go to an Indian woman.
It's legal, and is normal.
For in India, a cow is much holier than thou art!