Vihang A. Naik

the encroached footsteps
of an intimate enemy
where the cold
shadow of death has shaped
over the deep valleys,
they stand.
Tall.
Silent.
Now
since hundred years
making paths
through hills
that will not speak

the in-between lines
of unwritten mutilated stories.
They stand.
Unmoved.
Aged.
the mountain of pain in silence
that will not speak
the forest of untold tales
in white fog of Shimla
covering the body that died screaming
freedom.
The birth pang of India
The stand :
now
a mute witness
of histories.