At this time, in this city, on this land along the shore of the Bay of Bengal, the angel of death works double time. There is always someone to kill, someone to trap or exploit, someone to drive crazy, someone expendable. How else will you explain the seismic waves of tragedies, misfortunes and betrayals that are breaking on our shores every day? How else will you justify your existence in a country so self-righteously preening itself over its moral credentials when, clearly, it is being dominated by thugs, rapists, and misanthropes?
At this time, in this city, on this land along the shore of the Bay of Bengal, the angel of death works double time. There is always someone to kill, someone to trap or exploit, someone to drive crazy, someone expendable. How else will you explain the seismic waves of tragedies, misfortunes and betrayals that are breaking on our shores every day? How else will you justify your existence in a country so self-righteously preening itself over its moral credentials when, clearly, it is being dominated by thugs, rapists, and misanthropes?