Germination
It's a rally out there, Shouting:
Silence the lone shrill voice of protest!
Long live the noble thoughts!
Wipe out the blot,
Slowly build up the slogans-
Sharper, finer and focussed.
One stroke should be enough
To open up the skull of dissidence.
Let it live till it is on the screen
Let it be in headline for sometime.
Once it goes to the archivesWho bothers?

It's a crowd out there;
The lonely corpse in a bolted room,
The bullet hole on the saffron robe, or
On the widow white cloth,
Or blood stained sharee of a virgin
Spread over the bush on a barren land.

It's a procession of ghosts out there.
Come together from each corner of the earth;
Holding each others' hands in a chain.
The awakening of the dead soldiers of freedom.
It's a chorus out there:
All singing in unison in a moonlit night.
It's the warm lap of rain drenched earth,
Dark shadows of leafy trees guarding the fence.

It's the kingdom of ghosts.
It's the only hope of the chained souls,
The misfits and the weaklings,
Who also inherited the earth.