A red stream of words cascaded along the screen

announcing your untimely grim departure
Your lifeless body splayed across the steps
haunting every pair of eyes.
I cannot help but wonder,
Did you smell death lurking in the darkness of your porch
Or did it spring upon you like the weather of Bangalore
unpredictable and sometimes unforgiving
Did you have debates which had to be discussed,
And conversations to be continued?
Thoughts which had to be penned
And ideas to be executed?
All orphaned by some thirsty metal pellets
Though your fight lay abandoned in some desolate road
Along with your father’s and the ones before him,
They were fools to think that ideas could be killed by bullets
And words could be silenced by swords
For more Gauris will be kindled from the smoldering embers of your spirit
Moulded from fire, armed with pens.

This piece was first published in Guftagu

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