Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

I am tired of India.
The india that I was not born in.
The India that is at daggers end.
The India which refuses to see its spirits blend.
The India which is obsessed with just one colour.
The India that ignores the rainbows splendour.
The India that has gone dwarf.
The India that was never my country of soul.
Citizenship is not by birth.
Citizenship is not by decree.
In the land of Arya's Citizenship is by your souls decree.
For the sake of The Lord who values our salt,
Change before I die in a land foreign and not known,
Because the least I deserve as a bug that flew anon,
On the dungs of your roads,
And on the gutters of your moats,
I crave for your wisdom,
Be mine, be me, be India for once before we destroy,
Not China, Pakistan or another perceived lower being,
Let us for once be what we want to be,
Win Delhi, win it by right,
Don't for heavens sake, win it on the corpse of my rotting twilight.