Memories never fade..
I saw him, with my bare eyes, being taken to his own graveyard. He did the right thing and he was punished. He raised his voice, for the masses and he was humiliated. He made them speechless and they dragged him along the ground. I doubt if revolution showed him mercy but he wasn't afraid . .
His dream, when I met him, was to lead an ordinary life, with me, of course. Then he dreamt of freedom. From the ever superior and powerful hands that burried people's rights deep down. Then his dream became the nation's. Then he dreamt of people's lives, which he knew, would do him no good. None at all. All he wanted was to stand up and raise his voice so that both the powerful and the weakling could be heard. And he did. So they feared.
A hundred battles were fought before they could trap him. He fought with fire in his eyes, that shattered many a hands which harmed the fellows, cruelly. 'Mighty Warrior' , he was called. Immortal name for a mortal man. But on the 50th day of the upraising, 60 days after our marriage, he stood there, silent, yet speaking to the people, with sharp bold eyes, lighting the rebellion further, he stood there on the pedestal - the one they rewarded him with.
I ran as fast as I could , unwilling to believe what I heard. 'Oh my love', I cried. I knew he was beyond their reach, but how they trapped him, I never understood. I waded through the large crowd and saw him there. Tears trickled in tiny droplets, as I barred my lips with my hands. My whole body began to shiver. But he stayed intact, strong enough to receive the fate with pride. He looked straight into my eyes, from that long distance. It wasn't lovely, I'd say. He was asking me to be bold, to be proud and to be confident. I wasn't , though!
A single bullet, I heard. Everyone screamed. I closed my eyes tight, and said, "Good Bye, Champ" - I still love thee, my mighty knight in shining armour. I shall forever be proud to say, I love thee!
Jeshma Chand
I saw him, with my bare eyes, being taken to his own graveyard. He did the right thing and he was punished. He raised his voice, for the masses and he was humiliated. He made them speechless and they dragged him along the ground. I doubt if revolution showed him mercy but he wasn't afraid . .
His dream, when I met him, was to lead an ordinary life, with me, of course. Then he dreamt of freedom. From the ever superior and powerful hands that burried people's rights deep down. Then his dream became the nation's. Then he dreamt of people's lives, which he knew, would do him no good. None at all. All he wanted was to stand up and raise his voice so that both the powerful and the weakling could be heard. And he did. So they feared.
A hundred battles were fought before they could trap him. He fought with fire in his eyes, that shattered many a hands which harmed the fellows, cruelly. 'Mighty Warrior' , he was called. Immortal name for a mortal man. But on the 50th day of the upraising, 60 days after our marriage, he stood there, silent, yet speaking to the people, with sharp bold eyes, lighting the rebellion further, he stood there on the pedestal - the one they rewarded him with.
I ran as fast as I could , unwilling to believe what I heard. 'Oh my love', I cried. I knew he was beyond their reach, but how they trapped him, I never understood. I waded through the large crowd and saw him there. Tears trickled in tiny droplets, as I barred my lips with my hands. My whole body began to shiver. But he stayed intact, strong enough to receive the fate with pride. He looked straight into my eyes, from that long distance. It wasn't lovely, I'd say. He was asking me to be bold, to be proud and to be confident. I wasn't , though!
A single bullet, I heard. Everyone screamed. I closed my eyes tight, and said, "Good Bye, Champ" - I still love thee, my mighty knight in shining armour. I shall forever be proud to say, I love thee!
Jeshma Chand
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