By: Kousik Adhikari
Shall I weep? Today? When the boat is burnt
And I have burnt the boat.
The sky was still bloodless like any woman after the first birth,
The crimson moon appears to ravage the sky with heavy foot
And I could see burnt flowers and ashes flying, scattered
With horrid shouting of ‘hari bol’!
Like wheels ever to return and ever to trample!
Looking onto the pyre the ancient question
Grips me again and now when the fire is burnt to ashes
I still can’t decide- shall I weep? And, how shall I?