The Post Mortem

Meet the Jane Doe of Uttar Pradesh,

The Jamuna Bai of the autopsy wards of Bulandshahr.

Sets in the overpowering stench of putrefaction,

Her corpse would be placed on the outskirts of a village.

Burned to cinder by the caste meant to do it.


Smell the putrefaction systemic

In the health care farce of India’s Cow belt .

The doctor deigns to sit in the other room.

The stench of the cadaver alien to his Brahmin olfactory senses.

What colour is the spleen? He shouts out.


The ward boy answers or/and perhaps the sweeper,

As they cut, splice, slice, chop, and stitch.

Consider this the outsourcing of medical attention,

To a different room, to a different class of employee,

To the Harijan of the hospital.




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