In that holy temple, in that place of worship,
the holy bell rang, calling thy holiness lordship.
As it did every day, it was usual in every way,
for the custom it was ancient, to come there and pray.
And the bell sound reverberated in the temple air.
And its notes stirred that pious atmosphere.
And its melody aroused that sacred feeling.
And its music touched everybody who was kneeling.
Calming was the atmosphere in that place of worship,
pregnant the view with a rich saffron.
Diffused was the air with the fragrance of incense.
And the view saturated with petals of marigold and jasmine.
The structure insides was carved artistically,
it was once part of an ancient cave.
The figures of god and goddess seemed to come alive,
so majestically and beautifully they were engraved.
In this atmosphere so beautiful & benign,
under that sky that was evening induced carmine.
every one of the hundred devotees who were there that day,
and a few more people who were walking by the temple gate –
Kneeled and bowed and sang the songs of God.
Poured their heart out, lips murmuring, feeling awed.
So loud was the ring and the clamor in that place,
so absorbed everyone was in that omnipotent God and Goddess,
that they became completely lost in their devotion and zeal,
and nobody heard that one voice that was crying to be listened.
That one sound of the little girl that was shrieking at the very top.
That one sound that was asking for help, that may come from any man or some god.
That soul who was so young, and new to this world and its rituals and customs.
Who was innocent of mind, body and was pure from every essence.
She was being inflicted with such torture, that you & I can hardly imagine or conjure.
Was forced into a pain that no girl or woman should ever feel, or watch or suffer.
Experiencing the worst brutality that a man could ever inflict to you or me.
tore her fabric apart made her doubt in the existence of any deity.
And the louder she cried, the louder the temple bell rang.
The more she suffered, the more emphatic devotees clamor became.
And when she yelled mustering every ounce of her last of her energy,
The holy conch roared monstrously calling out the deaf deity.
She was a child, and she could cry for only sometime and not a lot more,
a little heart can take only so much, what can you expect from a ten-year-old.
So her tears started soaking the earth in the last effort to make someone notice her pleadings,
but even they fell short compared to the gallons of milk being poured as part of devotees offerings.
And time passed, bells silenced, proceedings finally came to a halt,
The conch stopped yelling, the bell stopped being noisy anymore.
The fire that was burning majestically was doused by now,
and the incense fragrance had vanished fading in the thin air.
“Holy thy God, Holy they God,” had sang everyone in a holy chorus,
but their ears shut to the unholiness that was happening not very far from there.
The offering wood was not the only thing, that got burnt to ashes in that place.
A life so tender and soft was the living being that got really sacrifice instead.
A hundred heads that were bowed rose,
a hundred backs that were bent straightened,
a hundred pair of eyes that were closed opened,
a hundred pair of hands that were joined parted.
The silence finally prevailed in the temple
now one could hope the God could finally listen.
To the ten-year-old who was gasping for breath and hope
Maybe she can make one more effort, and not just try in vain.
But the only sound that came after that
was the croak of the crows that stopped for a moment, before crossing.
And the sound that was really calling out the God that day,
had turned into a whimper – soundless, hopeless, hardly living.
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