His big dreams of an amusement park
Lies shattered.
The lives of his own grandchildren
Are in jeopardy.
He limps listlessly,
Watches helplessly
As one big creature
Hunts for another.
Gandhi must have had
A moment like this.
His dreams of Swarajya
That he had woven on his
Charakha carefully,
Ripped apart by the jagged edge
Of the Line of Control -
Sticky with oozing scarlet liquid.
'Cut! ' shouts the director.
Sir Richard Attenborough
Has found his inspiration
For his role.
He adjusts his hat
And limps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem