Not A Dream... Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Sitting on the banks of river Thames,
Facing the West Minister hall of famous,
The eye of London on the right,
The muddy river carries the dreams of orients,

The silenced human at the back,
Quietly resting for many decades,
The transparent buildings are curtain less,
The breeze here is cold with no dust,

The faces here have no distinct features,
Most are foreigners with spending purse,
What we have acquired from this land,
Who called themselves as our Masters,

Men from this petty Island which is called as Britain,
Good at manipulation and clever at invention,
Built the boats and sailed to our lands,
To convert all of us to be non violent,
As we did not have anything to protect,

Men from this petty Island,
That is divided further into Wales and Scotland,
Had had the guts to conquer the world,
With empty promises and magical miracles,

The river Thames is the witness,
For it has seen all the events,
Drowned are those evidences,
Let the truth of history rest not in silence,

The ships are anchored at the distance,
The sea faring fathers have returned,
Holding the pounds and dollars in their hands,
While every other currency gets weakened,

One pound is fifty paisa: not our dream,
One dollar is forty paisa: not our destination,
One world currency is not the imagination, but the expectation,
We are non violent and we need not slaughter our vision.