Midnight knock at the pin-drop door
You have to replace a dead undertrial.
Shall I put on a shirt? Gulp a few morsels?
Slip off through the terrace?
Door-planks shatter and wall-plaster flakes.
Masked men enter: Enflank.
"What's the name of that squint-eyed guy
Where is he hiding?
Speak up, or come with us!"
I choke in terror. Sir, yesterday at sunrise
He was lynched by a mob.
(Translation of Bengali poem Astitwa )