On the 100th Anniversary of Jallianwala Bagh Massacre
Green couldn’t have
turned more crimson
On the day when petals became April showers.
Vaisakhi’s moon brought forth a year new,
A spring harvest of doom and gloom.
This garden is holier to me
Than God’s thousand Gethsemanes.
It has borne witness to the agony
Beside which blood on thousand
crosses pales.
The Indo must never turn the Anglo
Here
in my vale full of beans.
Would
that on this day of the morrow
The doves rose from the fallen petals.
The doves rose from the fallen petals.
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