• mushtaquebarq 10w

    The Chillai Kalan

    Behind the ice capped mount
    Thy army is on rampage
    And our own taps copy thy disloyalty
    But, if Ye are tyrant
    We have Kangri
    Ah! Not to talk of Bijli.

    Our rubber sacs yell,
    so does our own rivers
    when on the steel lines
    poor electrons protest
    despite making our billcases
    thin. And we burn our will
    till morning to beat the chill.

    When the tears at the edges
    icicles turn, we burn
    a dead tree of yore, and take
    a few cups of Rajma from store to celebrate a family
    candle light dinner.