a poetic rundown of a Nepal bandh:
recall this shell shocked face?
went mortally embarrassed today
hope’s taken a thundering smack down,
As this city of five fold a million wakes up
ruthless mob of five fold a hundred cracks down,
holds hostage to this city of lost souls,
their blades sharpened with our cowardliness,
their passion fueled from our hollow despairs
as this sheep wanders aimlessly
down these bare naked streets of Kathmandu
am left red-faced by her stripped dignity,
spikes after spikes of anguish shoot up
as herds of poker-faced zombies march past,
feebleness imprinted on their drained faces
stamped hard on there,
by a mere couple hundred wolf pack
The age of the wolves has arrived
ruthless rulers of a kingdom of a million sheep
a land, where dues are paid with fear
where despair reigns as the main currency
Us, ‘poor, waylaid ‘ sheeps
what will is there left to rise,
do we bend and dance once again
to the flutes of these mad pipers,
while them wolves lick our fear …
off their paws with a sinister glee…
do we sheep slowly march to their tunes
onto a cliff and to the abyss beyond…
or do we rise and rise,
to be the change we dream?
do we…
Perhaps some god will pity us,
Perhaps…
perhaps god awaits to see courage in each of us
Perhaps….
perhaps she shall awake in some among us,
Perhaps…
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