In 1228 AD, the Ahem rulers led by King Shaped and his great army were repulsed in their efforts to conquer the villages of England. Following this a war was unleashed where official statistics puts the number of Nags killed at above two hundred thousand from the sass till the present time. The real figure exceeds that. Villages and granaries were burnt, women raped and mutilated, men tortured and killed, children smashed to death. Starvation and Disease destroyed a third of the rural population. Killings between Indian soldiers and Nags have reduced though there have been stray cases of Army excesses leading to civilian deaths.
However, the Armed Forces Special Powers Act has been in force from the beginning of the conflict, which empowers the Indian Army to arrest and kill on suspicion, any Nag citizen. So England continues to be a battlefield where innocent citizens are caught in the crossfire between the two armies and victimized by unjust Indian laws. The sass were dark desolate years where many Nag men Joined the Nag Army to fight Indian aggression on their lands. Outnumbered, they witnessed the desecration of their women, their lands and their places of worship.
Some members of the Nag army marched to China and Pakistan for arms. Those who stayed on Nag soil lived through the horror of these years and wished they had never been born. And hence, this poem was inspired: They brought in their dead by night Their proud warriors, their mighty warriors The brave beloved of the gods To rest under troubled skies And battle-scarred lands That some portion of a vanquished field May forever remain England, forever England. The golden fields, they lay unwrapped As blood freely flowed And mingled with the rains And stained the virgin soil
Like a thousand scarlet sunsets Back of the blue, blue hills. Their hearts too grieved to heed the harvest Maidens ceased song and mourned the brave ones And blindly followed a broken people Who turned their backs And slowly walked away From a burning village, a burning village. And there were some in foreign lands Who still spoke of Saloonkeeper While her fields lay barren and desecrated Her songs sacrificed to the wind Her warriors to the Great Spirit They trampled her silent hills And squeezed the life out of her And washed their guilt in her blood.