The whispers rise, on winds of pain,
A mournful song, a somber strain.
The valley weeps, the mountains sigh,
For lives surrendered, \'neath the sky.
Sehrab Sathoo, with heart ablaze,
Watches the flames of dying days.
Not for himself, he seeks release,
But for a martyr\'s, hallowed peace.
He sees the faces, young and bold,
Their stories yet, to be unrolled.
He hears their cries, their silent plea,
For freedom\'s dawn, for liberty.
He knows the cost, the heavy toll,
The shattered dreams, the broken soul.
But in their sacrifice, he finds,
A strength that binds, and hope that grinds.
So let the whispers turn to cheers,
Let courage conquer all our fears.
Let sacrifice ignite the flame,
And write a martyr\'s glorious name.
Sehrab Sathoo, with tear-filled eyes,
Prays for the moment, when hope will rise.
When death\'s embrace, a hero\'s crown,
Brings freedom\'s light, to settle down.
By Sehrab Sathoo