A small victory, the first one,
with a limited number of guns,
against an empire mightier than all,
a bunch of schoolboys stood tall.

Telegraph office, railway tracks,
the Club, the two armories attacked,
firearms seized by the revolutionaries,
a firefight drew on as the night grew weary.

Good Friday, unfortunately, got in the way,
an unanticipated factor came into play,
so the army of boys marched the next sunrise,
but they had won the night and respect in everyone’s eyes.

Most of the boys never returned,
never saw their mothers again,
but oh, how the Union Jack burned,
on the night that boys became men.


3 thoughts on “Chittagong

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