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In Walking Around, Pablo Neruda verses: I happen to be tired of being a man. Yes Pablo me am, very tired. Cant get over the raping and killing of an 8 year old girl, Asifa Bano. She gave us no reason to hate except of course a smile to live. A time to be born, and a time to die, says the Bible. We didnt giver her a time scale; quarter of a chance; she was raped and killed before she was born. Bhakts laugh, contend they dont rape and kill unborns and they are always right, me country of violent hates, cultivated to a fashion statement. Yes, her mistake she was born. But that was not her mistake. Her religion was given her. She, like all of us, had no say in the matter. To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under the heaven, says the Bible. Season she understood. It was winter. But purpose she did not grasp, nor anyone. A blundered mystery. Anyway she is no more. Where is her tomb? Has she any to lay a flower. Earth did not tumble. Nor the sun dim. Yes, Neruda, no excuse in being a man.