Collision by Indra Hatpins

I~

You~

Rise from a land of the mythical kind, a paradise hidden behind the white man's lie, which is only his story, a most devious study, a viewpoint that fumes in colonial envy, adopted by seditious pundits, scholars whom I cloak in air-quotes, the leftists, the seculars, the urbanised Naxals~

Call us anti-national, the usual suspects, alas, our clenched fists defy governments and their bent narratives, not the Republic, deception with a forked tongue, the serpent that slithered out of Eden, if your twisting coils smother our critical lungs, it's only natural of us to struggle for freedom~

Cities crumble when these pesky radicals assemble for a peaceful rumble, their roots, buried in home soil to suckle dry that fertile grind trampled under ruthless hooves of a thousand years of invaders, a disease of weeds to sully the Sanatani garden, foul like a burka to dull the belle of Dharmic tradition~

Subtle Islamophobia is the new orange, pupils of Jamia need more than just a bandage, their image punctured by venomous drips of news media outlets,

Collision

Indra Hatpins

blasphemous, like serving beef to customers, stomach this instead and get upset: the irony of blindfolds on Lady Justice~

A crippling of righteousness, political correctness has forgiven too many wrongs, minority appeasement trafficked in violet fingertips, but not anymore, for my awakened spirit sparks into an amalgamation, I electrify the revolution, a desi renaissance, the spicier version, a glorious reinvention of the Motherland, painted with indigenous passion~

As bloodshed and tear gas shells litter the Nation, pellet prints carelessly sprinkled like misplaced freckles across torsos and faces of citizens, guilty and innocent, the due process of law, a fading wall once crafted to protect us all, before it erodes into figments of imagination, we’ll arrive as reinforcements, ready to write the last stand like Stephen.