The roads of Jantar Mantar
Did not witness a protest that day.
They witnessed dreams
Standing barefoot beneath the sun.
Some carried placards.
Most carried the weight
Of their parents’ silent sacrifices.
The wind knew every trembling heartbeat,
Yet the world walked past
As though sorrow had no voice.
A mother’s hands grow rough
While stitching tomorrow together.
A father’s smile fades quietly
Behind unpaid burdens.
Every page a student turns
Carries someone’s hunger,
Someone’s prayer,
Someone’s love
That asks for nothing except a future.
When one dream falls,
An entire home learns
The language of silence.
Do not remember them
As children who raised their voices.
Remember them as hearts
That refused to stop believing.
For every student is a sunrise
Waiting beyond the longest night,
And every forgotten dream
Leaves a wound upon the nation itself.
The day we begin to hear their silence,
Will be the day hope finally returns home.
And if these dreams,
Are left unheard again
The roads of Jantar Mantar will learn our footsteps,
Once more, not because we wished to return
But because a mother’s prayer
Should never become a child’s protest.
By: AS
