I am Darjeeling

Art by @noriart13

My name is Darjeeling.
I have also been called Dorje-ling.
My past is very vast,
Only 26 alphabets cannot suffice.
If you try to explore my past,
It is similar to diving,
Diving into the deepest ocean
From one you might never come out.

I was once called “The queen of Hills”
A crown soon snatched away from me.
Then there came days where I was teased
“Pahar ki raani maila ki khani”.
I shed a tear or two..

My residents loved me
But they didn’t love me as well.
I still get confused…
Do they love me?
Love, is it so confusing?
Buddha said:
“When you like a flower, you just pluck it,
When you love a flower you water it”.
Am I being plucked?
Or am I being watered?

These days I am mostly bruised,
And these bruises hurt..
I have never been left as I am,
I have an identity crisis,
Iv been pulled and pushed away,
What am I?
I dont want to be Switzerland!
I am Darjeeling,
Give me back my crown…

I bleed! I bleed! I bleed!
Its not blood..
Its my identity…
When I have bleeded enough..
I will be but an empty space,
A tabula rasa…

I try to think of happy days,
Oh wait…
There were no happy days.
I was constantly raped,
Yes i was raped..
Raped by the Government!
Raped by the system!
Raped by forces I could never see..

My sockets are empty,
Not a single drop of tear in it
I can only moan my fading…
My muffled moans,
Deafened by warnings,
Deafened by terror,
Deafened by chaos..

Let me just be me,
I am Darjeeling,
I want to be Darjeeling,
With these same people who are confused nomore.
My nomore confused warriors,
Who can protect my crown.

My pride resides in their hands,
Let them restore my pride,
Let them bring me my crown back.
They are my Gurkhas,
My “Sceptre” (Dorje) and my “Torch”.

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