Fateful Day Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

It was fateful day
The Prime Minister had passed away
Whole of country was in mourning
I was getting ready in early morning

It was year of January 1966
It was decided to opt for services
The nation was ready to pay homage
I was so young in age

It was beginning of carrier
The death of prime minister was barrier
It was smelt as sinister plot
The victory was lost without being fought

I thought for nothing
The country stood as something
Beacon for good hope tomorrow
We, the youngsters, were ready to go

I look back and view
The highest honor of land was due
For a men who almost died as poor
The car he owned too was in custody of banker