The old man begged,

The young one cried,

“Leave my father he has done nothing.”

The police did not relent.

Some ‘bought’ muscle men stood behind him.

“We saw you rob, hit, duck and run.”

“No it was not me,” The man begged,

The young one wept and fell on his knees.

The police kicked, hurled abuses

Threatened to lock him up

The man fell, rolled down

Every time he attempted to get up

He was rudely thrust down.

 When the police temper cooled

They locked him up.

At each interrogation, he pleaded innocence

He was beaten even more.

Since the real culprit remained screened,

And the case diary was to be handed over,

The poor man stood no chance of acquittal.

He had no money; he had no influence,

He knew not anyone who would help.

This fancy world; this bullion world

Swimming in treasured hands of the rich

Has no place for the weak, the miserable

And the lonely poor…

Justice delayed is justice denied so we hear.

The rich is granted the due

There is lack of evidence…

But the poor where does he go to collect

Such a precious “thing,” called ‘evidence?’

Truly said, “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world”

“Is that why Salman Khan has gone scot- free?”

“I beg your pardon sir, there is lack of evidence!”

Yes, only a few were injured, another died

But who saw the mega box-hero run away drunk?

Or driving the car!

“Any clue?”

“Can anyone insert/ supply the missing link?”

                                                                         ~Shobha Diwakar

                                                                            Jabalpur, India