Thousands, did you say?
Millions would be closer to the truth.
Millions of silk worms, cocooned
into a self deceptive shell of security.
Rudely awakened by the boil. Stripped
of dignity, of shelter, of life.

And all the world’s Ms. Jones, Ms. Smiths,
Ms. Wangs, Ms. Reddys, Ms. Raos, Ms. Khans.
And who have you.
And the men too, those fashionable sorts.
Those wrapped in silken desire. Those shrouded
in deadly accoutrements. Those pouting
vacuous lips in vapid protest against cruelty.

They killed them. After over feeding them crunchy
green mulberry leaves. After pampering them
with neat layouts of efficiency.
Cold blooded the murders were.
The motive was but a fabric of celebration.

And they got away scot free. Not even the whisper of
remorse tinged their conversations. As they swished
their silks, as they showcased their spoils.
We are not cruel to animals, they said.
We just kill them a little before they die.
And instead of slipping into oblivion, we allow them
the privilege of living on as the ultimate symbolof luxury.

Murder. The crime.
Guilty. As sin.
Proven. Beyond contempt.
The sentence, if they haven’t cottoned on yet,
is silk by non-violence.

Ahimsa. The silk of human kindness.