The following poem by Indra Hatpins from New Delhi was selected as a commendable mention in Wingword Poetry Prize 2020
I~
You~
Rise from a land of the mythical kind,
a paradise hidden behind the white man's lie,
which is only
his story, a most devious study,
a viewpoint that fumes in colonial envy,
adopted by seditious pundits,
scholars whom I cloak in air-quotes,
the leftists, the seculars, the urbanised Naxals~
Call us anti-national, the usual suspects,
alas, our clenched fists defy governments
and their bent narratives, not the Republic,
deception with a forked tongue,
the serpent that slithered out of Eden,
if your twisting coils smother our critical lungs,
it's only natural of us
to struggle for freedom~
Cities crumble when these pesky radicals
assemble for a peaceful rumble,
their roots, buried in home soil
to suckle dry that fertile grind
trampled under ruthless hooves
of a thousand years of invaders,
a disease of weeds to sully
the Sanatani garden,
foul like a burka to dull
the belle of Dharmic tradition~
Subtle Islamophobia
is the new orange,
pupils of Jamia
need more than just a bandage,
their image punctured
by venomous drips of news media outlets,
blasphemous,
like serving beef to customers,
stomach this instead and get upset:
the irony of blindfolds on Lady Justice~
A crippling of righteousness,
political correctness has forgiven too many wrongs,
minority appeasement trafficked in violet fingertips,
but not anymore,
for my awakened spirit
sparks into an amalgamation,
I electrify the revolution,
a desi renaissance, the spicier version,
a glorious reinvention of the Motherland,
painted with indigenous passion~
As bloodshed and tear gas shells
litter the Nation,
pellet prints carelessly sprinkled
like misplaced freckles across torsos and faces
of citizens, guilty and innocent,
the due process of law, a fading wall
once crafted to protect us all,
before it erodes into figments of imagination,
we’ll arrive as reinforcements,
ready to write the last stand like Stephen.