I take the turn into a country
I don't understand,
I understand history though
and how through corridors of time
people  found breathing space. I take this turn
and learn bit by bit history.

Invaders came, they rested breathed its fire
its lust and its homes covered by ornate palaces.
There were love stories as well,
dynastic rulers, fratricide and battles
I can hear those gunshots and while travelling
by train once in Haldighat, the battle field splashed
with blood, mine yours, of a country.

History, the word shakes contours of being.
The word turns around
and asks:

Is this me,  the country?