Indian holiness

She was a pregnant Indian.
She was raped brutally,
Her womb cut open,
And her baby killed.

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Another Indian, she was molested.
She was only five then.
The molester still uses the black board,
While teaching maths to five year olds !

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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!
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