Years In Exile Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I am back after years in exile
Barring few new things nothing has changed for while
Same way of living and same style with existence
All for the good and no where any pretence

Nice were those days when we had well past time
Those were childhood days and considered as very prime
Everything was enjoyed with abundance of love and affection
It was funny, idiotic and coupled with very rash action

Nice age to remember along with all old friends
We were all known and member of notorious bands
No one may dare to point out or complain at home
We will be given no thrashing but only welcome

We knew well that critical days were ahead
It will prove all crucial to sustain and lead
Childhood was passing off like snow
We were coming up at speed with tendency to grow

We were in exile in our own country
Subjugated by other countries and ruled by many
Forbidden to visit any place as guarded by sentry
We were considered as dangerous for any entry

We had planned to throw them out forcibly
It was known to us that they will pay it very dearly
We had never chosen bloody path and even thought it rarely
It was not good option might have not come up fairly

All kind of terror was let loose on public
They wanted to turn it more tragic
Braking up of moral for us was their logic
But we knew it well as what could be its basic

No country can be kept under heels for longer period
There may be chances of uprising to fill the void
Though some steps may be taken for casualties to avoid
Still it may be little harsh when plan is laid

The youngsters or youth are always considered as stumbling block
They may be well prepared for final assault with surprise attack
As the public sentiments run high and turn against enemy
The scene later on may prove to be suicidal and stormy

Whatever the case may be, we were picked as possible threat
We were forbidden to see each other or meet
We were virtually pushed into heavily defended barricade
Still it could not crush us, stop or forbid

Those days have passed of with bitter memory
We are not sore at plight or feel very sorry
We only lament the treatment meted out to children
They were forbidden to come out in street for play even

We had chosen to leave the area once for all
It was of our choosing but a distress call
We could hardly offer any justice for it
Today I witness no change as people openly move and greet