Victory Be to us — Protest Chants from Jantar Mantar
Announcements rung on top our heads, “last and final call. Section 163 has been declared to this zone, we can take legal action, we can use force.” Lathis awaiting charge, tear gases inside back packs, packed and hidden away like this sham of a democracy at what cost, at what cost? Victory be, to […]
Announcements rung on top our heads,
“last and final call. Section 163 has been declared to this zone,
we can take legal action, we can use force.”
Lathis awaiting charge, tear gases inside back packs,
packed and hidden away like this sham
of a democracy
at what cost, at what cost?
Victory be, to the people of India
who have endured sweat-slicked days when electricity failed
rotting in the factories and shops, toiling away
counting meagre paises, watching as they laid waste
When could we also languish, like they do in their comfort?
Raised on the gospel of merit,
Study, study hard! And the country will hold you.
So we dreamed, and studied—
so we waited as days turned into years.
We waited as we no longer remembered how long we were sitting down.
Victory be, to the people of India
who slowly watched as the notice slammed on their face—
what about the sleepless nights,
Nights and nights worth of tireless, dedicated work?
To come out and tell us the exams we’d given were annulled
Offering refunds, as if they are some solace
For months and years lost?
Did you think we will not recall?
When you injured our farmers in broad daylight as they rioted?
Delhi had seen gut-wrenching resilience before, They’re older than any violence you shroud
Shamelessly, in the name of National Strength
Hundred, thousands of students who dreamed
knocked on streets, in blood-soaked shirts
Lathis and tear bombs flung against their dewy faces
is this what you call a democracy?
Where people cannot even assemble peacefully?
The iron fist of the State bearing a kind of force
it never dared to close on its own countless violations
So my people, they bleed
Their skins break from exposure, scorn and deceit
Their sweat never answered by the gluttons
Their pleas to the deaf, dead ears
Who paint these roads with neon bulbs and buttress
It with one hundred floored cascading wonders
Then remind us once a year to vote for the nation
Conveniently seated from their luxury mansions
This crimson dawn of youth is not the first,
Nor will it be the last of our efforts.
This is no longer about NEET or CBSE.
We erupt, and erupt—a massive wildfire!
It might’ve sparked in Jantar Mantar,
tomorrow in front of the Rashtrapati Bhavan,
But know that we will outlast,
Anything the saffron pawns and their corporate goons could ever produce!
No amount of towering barricades can hold
Out these battered students’ heart.
Victory be, to my people
who swarm the streets with a fire
searing ablaze
This is the moment!
which will travel beyond the creeks of old dusty archives
This is our moment!
Hit the streets, let this resistance thrive!
Victory be to us,
and our radiant struggle!
Let us watch saffron-corporate fascism topple!
-
- Nitya
