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But does history repeat itself? No. Not today. Today, she wages the war herself. She alters an erred history all by herself.
The woman clad in red saree
Stood in the middle of the court
Ripples of blood run along her thighs
Shadows of tyrannical pillars
And the gaze of vile men
Befall her like arrows
Fires rage in her eyes
Her clothes half torn
Stained of dishonour
Stenches of barbaric men
Who dragged her mercilessly.
But does history repeat?
No. Not today.
Today, she wages the war herself.
She dethrones the draconian king
Spits upon her impotent husbands
Burns the feeble sages
Seduces the rest shamelessly
Lures them onto her bed
Slits their throats
Drinks their blood
Screams like a savage
Runs out the palace
Climbs up the trees
Dances with eunuchs
Sings tales of witchery
Rips the muddy earth
Swallows the oceans
And eats the sapphire skies.
And for once,
An erred history was altered.
Picture credits: Still from the 2013 adaptation of the Mahabharata
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