To the media hear her cry!

Colors are bright red, blue and green

She paved her way up through thick and thin,

wearing her elegant mekhela chadar she introduces herself,

she noticed the crowd giving her a wry grin,

she places her junbiri right,

fixing her khupa with a pin

wondering what she said,where she went wrong

Was it the name of the place that she belonged?

 

Being reviewed with skeptical eyes,

Accepting humiliating cries,

For daring to speak, she paid the price,

Defending her culture she spoke once,twice,thrice..

Are Assamese outside Assam to bow their heads down?

For all the wrong reasons we have the crown

 

Remembering sounds of raindrops on Assamtype roofs,

Marching of Assam rifle troops,

Roads lined with sewali phul,

Brahmaputra silently flowing through its heart,

the place where she went to school

You and I are no fool,

The media is making its cream brulee,

There has to be more to a culture she is so proud,

where her attire still stands out in the crowd

 

Let us shift our focus to Maricom,

Being the only place to fight back mughal rule,

tell the people about Lachit Borphukan, 

Give the Kokrajhar issue in a correct light

The media should stop calling it a communal fight,

Not run after lonely couples walking in the dark

Stop making a fool, it happens in every park!

 

 Bhupen Hazarika rings in her head,

'ajir asomiyae nijok nobosale asom rohatole jabo'

and while fighting to get her history written,

She  remembers Zubin Garg,

'Jodi he amare astito nai,tene buronjiu kunu nasai'

Not forgetting,

'Asom amar rupohi gunoru nai sekh,

Bharotore purbadekhor surya utha dekh'

To the media, hear her cry,

Next time she mentions her home,

let her hold her head high,

let there be glitter in her eye.