Stand for Something
Stand for Something2 mins 145 2 mins 145
You force me to the edge and I fall into the lake, with my bleeding knees and cracked bones, just like my shattered dreams and broken hopes.
I stay there motionless, without any ounce of strength left in
my dying breath.
Sleeping on the surface with my eyes wide awake, I wait for
nobody and pray for nothing.
For who would listen to my beaten voice,
There are a thousand idols to look at and a million names to be
And I don't know the exact route for my salvation.
I am served with two complicated medicines of "dharm"
and "karm", I can choose only one and if I defy one
Then the another one would get me killed.
My vision is blurry, and my will is breaking,
Just like the bangles of a widow being crushed under the shoes
of the men with white collars across their necks and
concealed leather belts below their bellies.
The men, men who lynched her husband
For not chanting the mantra of their imposed "dharm".
Welcome to the mess in my head, do you
Remember the lake? It's swallowing me,
Just like the mouth of a crocodile after
He had his grand feast of flesh and bone,
It feels as if this lake is swallowing all my senses.
I am not the only one here, there are a lot many others same as
me who are drowning deeper and deeper, like
suffocating fishes with injured gills.
From sitting on the stairs of some "masjid"
To visiting the roadside "mandirs" and to all the
lonesome midnight walks in the valleys of our divided minds, we are drowning in
the lake of questions, a million questions.
People around us try to bring us back to the land, they bring us
cardigans of different colours, made up of the same fibre, the fibre of
extremist beliefs and orthodox notions, of "my dharm" and "their
We unwillingly wear them on our backs,
Yet the drops of questions never stop dripping from our bodies.
We have lodged for so long in the lake that no towels of dogma
can now soak us fully.
We make these droplets visible to public
Quite often, but only with the fear of
Receiving spits on our faces and shackles in our wrists. With
every voice we raise and every word we type, we are full of fears. But please
tell me what's scarier than letting the fears live within us?
Holding hands with the wind while fighting the storm, the voice
in head screams - "stand for something or die for nothing".