True Sikkimese hearts are filled with regret. We lost a country to be a territory of India.Today India broke her promises, betrayed Sikkim and Sikkimese people with CAB.
Twenty years into the future.Peace that which once was synonymous with Sikkim seems like a myth now. Once beautiful and clean Sikkim now smells and looks like a dump yard. Dump yard of Bangladesh.
You no longer hear those morning prayers from distant temples, monasteries, no fluttering prayer flags on top of the hill.
You don't hear the dialects that once Sikkimese people fought for. instead, you hear loud noise, scream.
Hustle, bustle with Bengali fish market.
Sikkimese people, forced to sale their lands, their house. Now you rarely see them, only few stubborn ones are left, street sweepers, garbage pickers, truck drivers.
They sometimes tell their children's, about their once proud but cowardly ancestors, about those greedy ones, who exchanged their country for nothing, for nothing.
About those shameless ones who didn't hesitate compromising the future and freedom of the coming generation.
It doesn't snow in Sikkim anymore. Streets are filled with half naked kids and whores, beggars, and what not.
Bengali men mark their territories with Gutka spits and piss. They even mark temples, monasteries...;
They scrub their skin against the walls.
You don't see any pretty girls in MG marg now. MG marg now has lost its glory. No tiles are left without cracks, no benches are there in Titanic Park.
Girls don't come out of their houses after Four now. They feel unsafe, for those hard stripping gazes of Bangladeshi men are hard escapes.
Rapes, robberies, murders are common now. You can often hear the screams of innocent girls, sometimes you accidentally step in the puddle of blood, but 'tis common now, burning bus, children being snatched away from their mothers, 'tis common now.
Sound of an ambulance has replaced the morning school bells,but, its common now.
I went back to my place after a long time, a Bengali family had occupied my once house.
I saw a man drying his lungi where I once dried my pants.