I Drink My Own Tea. Poem by Sandeep Dongre

When I wake up,
I wake up as a free man,
One who drinks his own tea in his own cup,
Without fear, without tear.

Yes, the tea doesn't stink of slavery,
It has a pure taste of bravery,
And brave we are now,
Who has the guts to make us cow.

We know how you treated us,
Our hearts are still bleeding by your cuts,
But we have learned to be brave,
Unafraid & immuned by your industrial wave.

The sun of your empire never set,
Now a stale tale, I am ready to bet,
The sun now rises for all,
It now listens everyone's call.

But it was not so easy,
That time was very fizzy,
Yes, the time when we woke up as slave,
And the tea we drank wasn't ours,
We were sold what was ours.

Those whites with black hearts,
Trode every Indian under their carts,
Their oppression taught us a message,
That one must not sleep so much that he may
appear a carcass.

It was time to stand up,
To have and to make one's own cup,
Thus, we stood up and we fought,
Until we had sugar to our cup brought.

And now I drink my own tea,
In my own free land.