Ross Island Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Ross Island
You can smell blood in the air
See billowing smokes of gunfire
Feel the fettered men that died there
From hunger disease and hard labor!
Still reek the tennis court and the bakery
Of the sweats of penal toils in that island
Till they fell and died in slavery
To the lashes of the whips of ruler's hand!
The water plant stands like a cruel mockery
Its ironed frame now ruined in century's rust
Reminding those souls killed for bravery
Never got a drop of water to quench thirst!
Over the wails of the prisoners were made a paradise
Where the monsters retired to seek love at night
But the crumbling ruins of that island cannot disguise
the stains of blood and denial of prisoners' right!
It is over the battered flesh and bones of slaves, often ravishing monuments are built, anytime, everywhere! Think of the pyramids of Egypt, the Taj Mahal... the great wall of China...... They all have heart rending stories of forcibly surrendered souls to tell! A great write!
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I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 4:23:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A very poignant poem of bygone days of British era when Indian prisoners were subjected to inhuman sufferings and history is witness to, on such pillars of misfortunes gorgeous monuments have been built......very well composed...... Pradipjee.......thanks for sharing