Case for frauds and a box of words empty
With bards in cages, acting like sages
He comes to lay the stones of bigotry
To be reviled in history's pages.
The diplomat hid in montane forests
While the royal carpet reeked of petrol
The vicious guards taxed pain and made arrests
People with slit throats were more in control.
Hang those who cry for war till the rope breaks
Overthrow the masters once saluted
The people will wage war for their own sake
Once armed, they will never be defeated.
Terror for one and hope for the other
A storm's gathering where frondeurs have been
The leaders face the wall my brother
It's time we send God to the guillotine.
You walk into the room, it’s dimly lit
She’s naked and you say who’s that woman
You’re confused and she says where is it
Where’s what, she shows you the bills in your hand.
You ask if she’s been here for long
She daren’t remember even if she can
You don’t know what’s happening all along
How many have slept here below this fan.
You say how does it feel to be a freak
To live with tattered sheets and sleeping pills
She smiles and hands you the relief you seek
What good is death when it’s your touch that kills.
She expects you to leave and settle the check
No one has respect, they’re waiting in line
But she’s drowning in pain up to her neck
Don’t stop now, the safe’s filling up just fine.
He was walking home in his worn-out shoes
His workplace did not need him anymore
He knows well he has paid more than his dues
They wanted money and showed him the door.
He’ alive and no longer on their side
From the bus-stops to universities
They were alive and kicking in his mind
With eyes open he soon knew the disease.
He was no more than a puppet for them
Now free of strings he gathered by the stairs
Now will he give-up or will he condemn
Birds chirped change, revolution’s in the air.
Why would they care at all how many die?
It’s only a number on a spreadsheet
They have plenty to spare, they can get by
Some dead and some dying, they’d never meet.
No matter what they say or what they try
The veil’s gone and no truth, it’s all a lie
With your puppets and money try and buy
Look up, it’s freedom written in the sky.
Shuvam Dewanjee is a writer from Kolkata, West Bengal. Educated in Sociology from Presidency University, Kolkata; he writes in both English and Bengali. His works involve social, political, and literary themes and have been published in various journals and magazines such as Muse India Literary Journal and Golden Cauldron Literary Magazine among others.