Today, you have kissed the hand again
But I still remember you
Raging on the streets of Imphal
Burning down what you saw
Cutting down the roadside trees
Which did nothing to you
But the river said nothing
Understanding your anger
Hearing your cry and scream
What made your finger secretly stamped on the palm?
On the day, were you just a scarecrow or their hands cut your hand?
Should I remind you which hand blinded your eyes?