Two Inches Of Thought

You say —

a country where Sitas still burn,

where Draupadis are still bartered in games of chance,

can never be a land fit for humanity.

And I ask —

which country hasn’t lit Sitas on fire?

Which land hasn’t sold its Draupadis?

Which Arjun hasn’t won

at the cost of an Eklavya?

Which Dashrath hasn’t split his home

to protect his pride?

Which mother hasn’t abandoned her Karna

for the sake of appearances,

like Kunti draped in virtue?

Which Gandhari hasn’t blindfolded herself

to a husband’s blindness —

and called it devotion?

We live in a world so sacred,

it worships gods at every street corner

but can’t find respectable decency

in a single fucking face.

The question was never

about what lies between the thighs —

his' or her's.

The real question is —

will yesterday’s history

become today’s again?

Or will something — anything — finally change?

History is witness —

only the calendars change.

Intentions never do.

And humanity?

It keeps losing itself

between five inches of anatomy —

its two inches of thought

that never learned to think.