By Subrata Mukherjee
In love with Golapi, Subratagolapi.
The new thought in a fit of flow,
Going in tandem up and low!
Like a snake resting in a coil,
With all its bid of toil!
In the world of pain!
Devoid of all love, tears and rain,
To a hollow cave writhing as slain!
The king is happy with his vane,
And his men dance in vain!
Doing fruitless to the cause of the common,
The lickers of dust are thrashed by the demons!
People are forced and trampled,
To die in hunger and get crippled!
To lick the dust but dare not to touch those
Who are tyrant and suckers of blood!
Even, the tiger raises a ‘meow’,
Yet, the snake is up again, with its upright view!