O sister, do not flinch—time is watching everything.Yesterday stood witnessto how they treated you,where they touched you.I’m sorry they silenced our witness,crushed it under their bulldozers.I know why the peacocks screamed then.O sister,please do not cry.Your tears won’t douse the fireburning within you.You always thought the university was your body,the animals and birds, your soul.Yet, you have no right over your own self.And please, tell your memories not to bleed fire—they might use it to burn you to ashes.O sister,our country is kind.Anyone can do anything.We have all the freedom—to raze universities, forests,and countless lives.Sometimes, a man thinksthe country is his outgrown beard,his to trim or let loose as he pleases.O sister,open your fist,open it, please—I’m afraid they’ll kill you.In our country, women mostly die.Sister, they may write in their FIRthat you held an explosion in your palm.They may ask why these lines mark your hand.Never tell them it is the map of your university.O sister,step back from the battlefield.Let us curse our existence together.Let me remind you—our country is just an imagination,a mirage that never was.Wait a moment—I am searching Google.Soon, we will know which country we live in.Ramesh Karthik Nayak is a Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar winner in Telugu for his short story collection Dhaavlo. He has published six books, including Chakmak in English, which was shortlisted for the 2024 Muse India Young Writer Award in the Poetry category.
