Tag Archives: nightmare

Womb’s Doomsday !

A subtle journey from cells to embryo

Naughty! The cuddling of XY chromosomes.

A girl’s gender embossed magically

Blooming of lily with soft scented skin.

Slowly, she grows an angel with golden wings.

Her thrilled wings embrace the dawn of her life

as her wings know no boundary or fear

for she is wrapped in butterfly’s freedom.


Alas! she never saw the eagles hovering above

as the predatory eyes never fail to spot the prey.

For its greedy eyes and sharp beak are always ready

to hijack her to the lonely cliff with accuracy.

It never misses the first opportunity fall on its way

to brutally tear the flesh brimming with modesty.

With crooked talon it attacks with such lusty acuity

Her screams and defence fails to rescue her dignity.

She is in blazing pain and her tenderness coarsens wholly.

Her dawn bleeds to dusk and turned to a scary midnight

and the ebony too failed to conceal her bareness.

The night suddenly possessed with nightmares 

and her sleep is hanging on its noose as pangs.

Life stares at her indifferently and she lay there fragile.


The bruised soul’s muted pleas raise million queries in oblivion!


How long the perverts rampage her femininity as if their right?

What if she was their daughter, sister, wife or mother?

Would they be so insensitive to react as if no conscience?

Why she is just an object for carnal pleasures and nothing else?

Why cruel rapes, dowry harassment murders and suicides unending?

Why peaceful breath and safe environment is prohibited to her?

Why such media extravaganzas on her ruptured body and soul?

Who, how and when this nasty play can put a stop from being played in loops?

Does she not deserve answers for these questions with solutions?

Or shall the questions remain answerless as if destined?


Truth is, she shall never remain the symbol of patience

When her immense tolerance tested as delicate and let it bursts.

Then the Goddess of destruction in her shall reincarnate as solution

to reinforce her lost dignity, respect and feminine power

for which she shall sacrifice her divine power of womb

and mark the doomsday the world has never ever witnessed.


 © Maaya Dev

Watching Over, The Night


The flesh of the night hangs loose, stale,

Around the cryptic cities where I roam.

My skull, the tautness of my skin,

My bones, joints, the fatty cells

And flesh in between, the conduits of my blood

All dried, nibbled on, burnt away,

The pitch dark sky creeps, moonless,

Laughing with its vicious fangs.


Glowing was the night as we had soaked in

The sweetest breaths of her descent.

The night had shone in our bodies.

The two of us, young lovers, brimming with moonlight

In the city bus, gazing from the window

At the luscious asphalt sky.

We were returning home from a feast of a film

The flawless, vital light of the night wrapped us

Wandering, shadow-like.


Nearby somewhere, that night, black owls screeched

Serpents crawled over us, coiled around me in

Vehement strokes and shoving. The window

Of our moon-watching banged shut, inside the bolted bus

The smothering, the cussing, the shoving

Bathed me in blood. Far into the night,

The pallid moon crooned feverishly.

They kicked away my body, and

That of my bleeding lover boy.

Together, in the naked city streets

The pestilence of death hovered,

As we moaned—ragged, rickety, forlorn.


The nation adorned me with a name, ‘Nirbhaya’,

‘The Fearless’, a martyrdom I never really wanted.

I slowly died, my music died out in the hospital room.

The tongue of the moon licked away

The residues of my rotted flesh.

My blood crystalized. My parents kissed me between

The dead veins of my forehead, and burnt my body,

Or whatever remained in the name of it.


Stripped off the flesh, skin and bones,

My arid spirit roams, a nightmare

In the wavy, tangled wind.

Thump, thump, thump—my unseen footsteps

Crush the dark night’s crevices

I am loved much where I belong now,

Sheltered, in the dense canopy of the sky.

Deep inside, I bleed every night,

I wander, in the dark womb of the cities

In the dead of the night, I whisk and burn,

Speed across buses, autos flaring with huge flashlights

I know—somewhere inside every city’s dark trenches,

A woman is breaking into million shards.

My molten essence strolls and stomps,

Whispers my story in wrinkled corners,

Every woman’s living nightmare.

Footnotes:The poem originated from unfathomable pain, remembering the shameful ‘Nirbhaya’ incident of gang rape in New Delhi, India, in December 2012.