Time of our Lives

There were images on the 76 mm;
there was Zimmerman in the air.

There were protests,too;
under the 'sky-road'.

Repurcussions from miles away,
they played the wrong cards at Writers.

The men in Mughal city,
played the blame game.
The folks in the village played with death.

They assured peace,
Red peace.
A Rizwanur dies again,
A Nandigram cries again.

Its a mutiny,
a silent arrangement.

Thirty years of attrocity,
burns in a single day of 'inhumaneness'.

Another Modi is born,
Or is it discovered?
The truth was always there,
the courage was'nt.

And they sang Zimmerman,
they marched candles.

Silent Mutiny.
of distant feelings of disturbance.

The uniform clad men,
did the job.
The told job.
It is the Red connection again.
Lalbaazar.

We had cars,
we have chemicals.
Its blood now.Red again.

For once the wind blew pure,
at Writers.
The answer was 'Blowin' in the wind'

White Zombies.
Poltergiests in disguise.
Hideous.

The invisible wall has been shattered.
The sun has indeed risen.

Melted candles,torn pieces of black,
broken pieces of wood,stagnant bent of the mind - was all thatwas left.
The silent protest reverberates.

They went Dylan,
candles,silence and
tears.