I go walking without a fight,
with you into the dead of the night.
For questioning, into custody,
over sedition, for conspiracy,
under UAPA, despite democracy.
I am just a person you call swine—
a benign human you can fine;
torture, imprison, kill or malign,
but the Truth you fear is not mine.
It’s a pandemic in young minds
as rabid televisions spellbind
and panting parents recline.
Economy dives underwater
but there’s no fish to find.
Oh! a neighbour is unkind
so we respond in kind.
In small WhatsApp circles Truth grows,
it takes a village, we all know.
She weaves a couple of twitter threads,
through fleeting Instastories she spreads.
She will maintain data, for herself to know,
donate to the needy to soften the deathblow;
and thus will Truth grow
into a conscientious young fellow.
You won’t find her serving alliances,
in a political party or with the media foxes.
She will walk for days to get home from a city,
live in detention centres, question the government’s duplicity.
She will hang from trees, raped
Or die with crops, aped.
As you waste my life away in a cell,
I want you to remember this spell.
the Truth you fear is not mine,
She’s in everyone with a spine.