After midnight they came,
from all directions, as the
pack of hungry wolves, howling,
“ Long live, the revolution.”

They surrounded his hut,
and opened its frail door
with the rifle’s butt.
Then took the poor man
out in the wild,
and burned his chest
with the bullets warmth.

O, Poor man!
He strove to rise in his feet
but fell prone in his attempt,
crippled by their deceits.

As he gasped his last breathe, he
asked them, “ what kind
of revolution is this?”
And why often,
the poor are the victims.

“ We are the soldiers of the poor
and we are fighting for their liberty.”
They replied with a fallacious pride.

“Is the revolution,
really a revolution at all?”
“ I’ve an old mother, a sick wife,
scrawny son and a wounded dog.
What will the revolution give them,
after my demise?” He replied.

They stared at him,
with those venomous eyes,
but none of them uttered
a solitary word.

“Inside the core of this revolution
there is nothing but the blood
of the poor. Stop sacrificing
human beings, before the demon
of revolution, whose tongue
grows and grows, as the greed
of the Midas.” He whispered
to them in a faint voice.

“You speak highly
against the revolution,
so that we may be inclined
to think that the revolution
is unnecessary.”
They thundered with a raging voice.

No. “When have I said that
the revolution is unnecessary?”
“Revolution is necessary
to bring in the mainstream,
the voice of the voiceless.
But unfortunately, today,
there is a dearth
of the democratic revolution.”
He replied with a serene voice.

Revolution must spring
from the people’s heart.
“How can a man
comprehend revolution
who without comprehending its core
lets himself be swept along
as a corpse of moment, by the current of time?”

“Offering of life
will never make the
revolution successful.
If you want to make
it a real revolution-
win the people’s heart first.”
Saying these moral words,
he kissed the Earth.

They giggled for a while,
and fled that place, chanting-
long live, the revolution.
Long live, the revolution.

The Moon through the rifted clouds
looked down, and whispered softly
to the Sky, “ I’m bright but yet I am
afraid of the darkness, led astray
by the moral degeneracy of the mankind.”

Ah! What a fool we have been!
How silly we were to trust the bullets,
and sense the warmth
of our mother’s consensus,
in the barrel of the gun.

O,When will they confiscate
the bullets from their Guns?

When will Nepal be one?
When will Nepal be one?


Copyright 2005 Bhuwan Thapaliya