This road I am taking is full of silent stories.
The stories of history, the stories of rage, the stories of faith,
the stories of defeats.
Everything here is telling something from the core of it’s ravaged autocracy.
There’s a dead child,
there’s a burned concrete,
I am surrounded by the creation of something unabashedly wrong.
For the last few days there’s a word resonating inside my mind,
‘inquilab’.
It is inevitable,
‘inquilab’.
I guess revolution is also like poetry,
all they need is just a push towards destruction.
It’s tough to put these truths as it is to make an art,
but then I don’t care about art anymore…the blood must be written with blood.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: The Hindu.