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An estimated 2-minute read

An Ode to those Hundred Faces

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Here we were, minding our own business, enjoying life in our 'National' Law University when we were dealt a heavy blow by the university's trinity of ruthless hands: Bureaucracy, Vindictiveness and Subjectivity. But these Hundred faces I talk about have seen it all before. After two years in law school, having been left battle-scarred by the numerous confrontations with the administration, it's almost as if they are expected to go into battle every time an unfair result for our toil is put up on those oppressively silent notice-boards. Yet, they soldier on, ever-strong. It's time for another Battle. Here is an ode to the bravest hundred faces I have known, the Batch I am proud to have been a part of!

An Ode to those Hundred Faces


A hundred faces did emerge,

Faces, bare and desolate.

In a silent trickle, they did disperse:

Dispersal, so disconsolate!


In a single strike, the will to gripe

Was snatched away ruthlessly.

Is this Fate’s way to unite?

I’ve never seen Ate gleam so brightly.


As she began to work her magic,

Fresh life breathed into sagging spirits.

They arose uniquely in times so tragic.

Via caffeine, nicotine and a medley of spirits.


A hundred faces did emerge,

Faces, vexed yet steady.

Vengeance did their actions urge:

A vengeance, oh so heady!


Those who oppress believe they’ve won,

Little they know of the fires they’ve begun.

As the moth-bitten pages of History run,

Oppressors always pay for their shenanigans.


Writ large across their troubled brows,

Gruesome interplay of deception and injustice.

They wouldn’t, before dictators, bow;

The mere thought seemed ludicrous.


A hundred faces did emerge,

Faces, determined and valiant.

They all did in unison surge.

A surge, oh so triumphant!


Unity is life, else a gory demise,

Awaits spineless, lonesome cowards.

When the oppressed do, united, arise.

Tormenters are robbed of unworthy powers.


As trauma turns to grit and steel,

As hands join in a show of unanimity.

The wrath of wounded tigers do tyrants feel:

A wrath so gruesome, so ghastly.


A hundred faces did emerge,

Faces scarred, yet proud!

Suffering did their courage purge,

Courage; exceptional in a gutless crowd.


Those hundred faces; an accomplished task:

The strength they showed; That joyous victory!

Diverse faces, yet a single mask:

The mask of unity!




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