I yearn to relish the sweet memories of your love.
The very aura, tingled and mingled me,
With an angelic bliss.
A sense of completeness cannot be explained
Man lives with hope,
And dies with hope,
Hope is a thing,
For all the wings.
I was feeling sad and red,
I didn’t know, which way, nation was going.
There were quotas all around,
Communal, caste, gender, language, regional and physical,
A light hidden deep in stacks of straw,
And blankets dense of darkness mound,
You blasted into world with celestial flaws,
A hand for believers who live in gloom round.
O mighty creation of god but slighted,
Since the dawn of life,
You bear the insult and heavily suffered,
And carry spiritual light, glory of civilization and strife.
Babyhood is a spring playing,
Follow its source in the sand,
And its vibrations, flowing, growing,
Childhood can revitalize the barren land.
Don’t slaughter the innocent of Chittor,
Oh! Akbar the Great,
Of brutality and barbarism.
Ending the light of thirty thousand lives,
Today, I want to ask myself
What is it, that makes me weak?
It is a monotonous day round
Or the fear I abound,
Teacher is a soldier with a pen and an eternal guide
Lighting wisdom to mind decayed and white,
Floating tirelessly till dark with no pride,
Without fear and favor telling tales bright.