Why do I see dead dialects drenching today’s fresh expressions?
Could tall claims tame my country’s turbulence?
Why is my mother still wary of tomorrow?
Stressed, depressed, pressed – is my father not hollow?
March, roar, at each other’s throats – is it mellifluous manifold?
Where there is freedom, could there be fear?
Where there is Press, could there be propaganda?
The year is here, should my thoughts be new?
Siddhartha Basu is an amateur researcher of socio-political philosophy and literature.