122
Road
to
Revolution
I
was
on
the
road
to
revolution;
when
I
met-‐
The
childless
mother
beating
her
chest
in
sorrow,
the
widow
shredding
tears
of
solitude,
The
motherless
child
crying
for
company,
the
father
who
had
lost
his
son…
For
the
road
to
revolution
is
filled
with
people
like
them.
I
was
on
the
road
to
revolution;
when
I
met-‐
The
poor,
the
diseased,
the
wretched,
all
in
a
serpentine
queue;
Everybody
doing
their
bit,
pushing
forward-‐resisting…
The
road
to
revolution-‐a
road
of
perdition
for
those
walking
on
it,
Smoke,
bullets
and
bombs
find
place
with
burnt
pages
of
poems;
Yet
why
do
young
boys
and
girls
tread
on
such
roads?
The
answer
is
yet
to
come…
An
old
man
came
up
to
me,
“Why,
you
look
just
like
my
boy,
May
god
bless
his
soul!!”
His
last
words
hit
me
hard;
Why
remain
a
spectator?
Why
not
join
the
queue…
I
was
on
the
same
road
now-‐
fighting,
resisting,
and
again
fighting
for
change!
I
saw
scores
of
people
joining
the
fight,
but
we’re
still
apprehensive.
By
Biswadeep
Ghosh
Hazra