A protest poem by Tapati tells us how hooligans turned a peaceful night into a battlefield, shattered by fireworks and violence.
The night was serene The sky glittered with twinkling stars Everyone was sleeping in their dreams Only dews were playing with flowers. The peace of the night was shattered With thuds of fireworks, People's yelling filled the air With the sounds of guns and bombs, And men's brawling unfolded a cruel nightmare. Unknown faces of a violent mob Put fire on cottages and homes. A huge flame blazed across With the nonstop noise of bombs. The lighting torches of burning homes Displayed dead bodies scattered around, A Picture of horror and a pool of blood Soon the mob disappeared Leaving women in a wail, Someone’s mother, wife or sister's Mourning shriek was silenced by thugs with sticks. This happened every day. Only the count of deaths increased. Giving hooligans a free hand No one came to protect It is a picture of my state Which once was a land of glorious men, Today, it has turned into a battlefield Where hooligans reign.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
Tapati Sinha is educated from schooling to Post-Graduation from Visva-Bharati University with a Doctoral degree from Nagpur University in A.I.H.C.A. She loves Indian literature, Indian and world history and continues her personal research. She picks her subjects from various spheres including historical data, daily experiences of life and varied work places. Tapati is passionate to pursue her writings, novel, poetry, short stories on multifarious topics, past and present under the pen name Anjali.
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