Once Possessed With Ill Motives.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

A spiritual preacher advised the girls,
To call the intruders as ‘brothers',
When I called the snatch thief,
Who was violent and mischief,
He punched my left eye to be blue,
The blood clot in retina still a cloud,
He tore my blouse and lifted me up,
Threw me into the air to drop me as a rug,
When I pleaded with him not to violate,
He slapped my face to swell as a hot cake,
When he tried to pull my neck chain,
The chain snapped into two, scratched my will,
He picked up the half and tossed it into the air,
To show his waiting partner on the motorcycle,
After they left, I went to report the crime,
The policeman holding a cigarette between fingers,
Listened my ordeal and looked me up, down and middle,
And asked that was all, what else happened.