The journey with the pics would continue and would halt at a place where the echoes of history, the sounds of despair and the trumpets of victory, all jostled at a one place and at a same time. For some it was a world possessed, for many it marked a doom, a doom which has left indelible marks on many of the generations that followed the heroes who sacrificed their lives. Sacrificed for what? Well, don't be impatient, the story would unfurl at its own pace. But the lives of the unheard heroes with unseen faces need to be remembered. The marginal yet pivotal, the unsung yet haunting, for those masked faces a little tribute:
Simat kar baitha hai jo, rooh ko daboche
be-aab aankhein aur num si palkein,
ek aas hai phir bhi baaki abhi, aur
ek Inquilaab jo kabhi kaha hi nahi.
Kya juroori hai dard ko ek naam dena
aur har sukhan mein lafz ko sajana,
rehne do bebas usse kuch aur pal abhi
zinda raha toh thaam lega zindagi.
Raakh ki dher mein hain chingaariyaan abhi
ragon mein leti jawani siskiyaan abhi,
dadhak kar bujh raha hai jism toh kya hua
marne ke pehle jee lene ki hai chahat abhi.
Jo sun sako tum kabhi awaaz uski
chup reh kar keh gaya, wo baat uski,
usi ki duniya hui ein dinon bezaar, magar
usi ke dam se hai ye duniya aabaad phir bhi.
Perhaps one day, I will do an English translation of this, perhaps one day...