Can you possibly imagine,

Can you possibly feel the fear,

When you know that your life,

Your precious life, hangs in balance

Yes "balance" whose one side is laden,

With swords, machetes and other blades of vicious intent

And the other with a piece of paper identifying your roots,

But paper, fragile in the best of times becomes worthless

In the face of evil

Evil with it's bloodshot eyes demands real evidence,

"Who are you?" you give a name'¦

Ever played Russian Roulette then you would know

How it feels, when you know your life,

Your best friend's life hangs in balance

You pray to get away, dissolve or vaporize or anything

You pray for your humanity to be recognized,

But the hand holding the bloodied blade, the acid bottle,

The kerosene can, doesn't believe in the name you give

You are then asked to recite the Quran or the Gita

You smirk inwardly in spite of the situation,

"Thank god I will live" and you rattle off verses

That you learnt from your friends

The demon is happy

His benevolent smile allows air reach your lungs

And you hastily begin to walk away

"WAIT! We need proof that's concrete that's absolute-

Pull down your pants"

And then you know you are about to die,

For an inch of skin

You will be carved like a pig

You beg and you plead

And the machete rises high'¦