A Tribute to Dr. Moumita Debnath
In halls of hope, where healing grew,
She walked with grace, her purpose true.
With hands that healed, with heart so bright,
A beacon in the darkest night.
But evil crept where safety lay,
And stole her future, dreams, and day.
Within those walls where lives are saved,
She met a fate so cruelly paved.
On that cold night, the shadows came,
And left behind a scar, a name.
Moumita, with her healing touch,
Was silenced by a world too much.
A seminar room became her tomb,
Where learning thrived, now only gloom.
No one to hear her final cry,
No hand to wipe the tear-dimmed eye.
Her body broken, her spirit bruised,
By violence vile, and hatred loosed.
Her hands that healed were left to bleed,
Her life cut short by rage and greed.
Oh, how she served with love so pure,
Yet in her end, we all endure
The weight of what was lost that night,
A shining soul, extinguished light.
We stand in pain, in grief, in rage,
Her story now our history’s page.
For every tear her memory bears,
We vow to end this world’s cruel snares.
Her name is carved in hearts and stone,
Her justice, now our fight alone.
No silence now, no turning back,
For Dr. Debnath, we stay on track.
For in her loss, a movement stirs,
Her voice, her dreams, they now are ours.
And through the darkness, fierce and bright,
She leads us still, in endless light.
