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 )