Dark clouds rolling over the land,
Warm Blood splattered on the sand.
Crags are crying
Vultures are dying…
The plaintive wail of 45 million voices
Wretched. Melancholy. Soul Wrenching.
A lone bird cries bravely – cries…Oh so sweetly.
the song of freedom,
Reverberates through Empty Schools.
Empty Halls, Empty Rooms.
Empty Hearts, Empty Minds. (Sigh)
It couldn’t happen here..
Â© Rishikesh Chhabra [2nd July 1997]