The Dowry Flame of Nikki
O India, land of golden dawns and shadowed nights,
Why do your daughters burn in hearths of blighted rites?
In Greater Noida’s streets, a young heart ceased to beat,
Nikki, cruelly consumed, by fire none should meet.
Six thousand five hundred sixteen lives, the ledger cries,
Lost to dowry’s cruel hand, under indifferent skies.
Twenty-five times more frequent than the sins of lust,
Where justice falters, where the law betrays its trust.
Cuts and bruises, twenty-one percent mourned,
Eye sprains, burns, broken bones, silently scorned.
Three percent scorched by flames, yet few hear their plea,
As families bow to greed, blind to humanity.
O voices of the mothers, sisters, and the lost,
Do we count the cost of this infernal frost?
In homes where vows should bloom like jasmine pure and sweet,
Dowry death turns love’s promise to ashes at our feet.
Raise, O conscience of the land, let justice stand,
Let Nikki’s flame illuminate, not consume the sand.
For daughters are not offerings, nor bride-price to pay,
But blossoms of tomorrow, in the light of day.
-Gautam Jha
