Chittaranjan Dash, Delhi, 1 December 2024
You have run out of your masks.
Through light, shadows and dust,
Your vulnerability is a statue,
Suddenly, you are a stranger,
An anonymity begging for a name,
Yet, you are free, the truth,
An autonomy like an island in sea,
An impetuous fire with ferocity,
Your soul adorned with solemnity,
You are the most beautiful thing.
