“The vices of mankind are active and able ministers of depopulation.”
~ Thomas Malthus
I look at the sun and it is not the same.
How does it look to those hanging in a tree, trampled and trudged, ploughed and pounded, gang raped by herds of savages? Perhaps a pale yellow something, choking on its own haze, so much cooler than the lava exploding in their groins? Do they repent they ever existed in the shameful light that shrouds this land?
I wish it were a sick, dark fiction, but somewhere in the Gangetic plains, it is happening with the faithful frequency of a clockwork. A pair of father and son is blissfully running their fiefdom, exhorting the kith and kin to plunder the hapless girls and women, and dispose the waste products according to their tastes that range from hanging on random trees, burning with kerosene and acid, chopping to pieces for the benefit of wildlife, or burying alive in mass graves. A formidable, well-oiled machinery exists to ensure ‘the mistakes’ are executed and obliterated with perfection.
It is alleged that most of the girls and women under these skies enrich uncloseted space with diurnal bodily wastes to relieve themselves of the morsels they grab to live, and hence are bound to invite the rapacious wolves upon themselves. I am one with the conscience of the civilization that deems it ‘an enduring shame’, and that it should be halted at the earliest. Yet, I fail to see how the female of the species can be any safer even in reinforced bunkers in the face of the thunderous phallic ambition, buttressed by the hands of the state.
Democracy in the hands of fools can be the most lethal weapon of self-annihilation. Whenever I am forced to brood upon the state of this northern province, and often it is, I am amused how someone as prophetic as Thomas Malthus forgot to mention this grisly calamity capable of decimating a race. Or, is that a sign, a symbol of reversal of the pendulum of evolution back to the primeval nada?