Never Slaves This Before Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

We were never slaves this before
Kept under heels and crushed therefore
No statue was there to remind us about “freedom of liberty”
The kings were kind, fearful and blessed by almighty

We are prisoners in our own country
Poor are dying of starvation due to liberal economy
We are in real terms world’s largest democracy
The justice is denied due to delayed diplomacy

I am product of new generation and has witnessed
The emergence of new era where new goals are to be chased
New ideas and world at large are to be understood
Enough of attention for progress along with enough stock of food

Whole of ice berg is earmarked for distribution
But reduced to tiny cube when reaches to destination
The corruption has become order of the day
We can’t think of living in honorable way

Whole of country is divided into small pieces
Cast, creed, religion and region sway national politics
Some of the regions are starved because of no strong voice
Help is rendered but they are left with no choice

Our ancessastors built strong base and gave one nation
Harmony, peace, and prosperity synchronized with good relation
Alas! We fell victims to the jealousy and divisive tendency
Whole of country fell to invader’s greed and lost supremacy

We are slaves from that period till today
We boycotted foreign good, burnt and pushed them away
It was fight for independence and had noble aim
Everybody sacrificed something in a way to claim

Whom to complain about our own plight?
What to do with such kind of liberty and offer to fight?
Where country is divided on ethic norms?
Only cheating and treachery is in full swing on the name of reforms

We had irritation towards foreigners for their white skin
Their role is taken over by this so called people with kith and keens
Forces are killed in day light but no political will power to fight
We may vanish in our own land for doing wrong or right

Not a hundred, thousand or million fills their belly
Their hunger rises day by day even if that seems silly
They have no remorse when farmers and laymen commit suicide
Where can we go and cry or find the place to hide?