True Independence

In a nation where true leaders led,

And into that same soil where they bled,

We wake, we live, and we've fled…

Leaving our pride for our soil withering dead.

Leaving prayers of gratitude and hope, unread.

Of the bonds that bound us into brotherhood,

Comes another day of pride in Gandhi’s nation.

Of the decades that slipped in mutiny unheard,

Comes every day, a chance for transformation.

And so, from prince to pauper,

And from royalty to peasantry

Have the same blood when it comes to us as a country.

So why bar with differences our caste, creed and birth proper?

The heroes in jail did not picture this,

When we as a nation now point at ourselves,

For the hindrance to that dream they dreamt,

Or our hibernating capabilities that we refuse.

It’s time we acknowledged our past,

The tragic yet triumph weaved into such irony,

That the reoccurring history’s pain still lasts,

Lasts in every grievous or glorious battle won and song sung.

So today, paint the hearts with the colours of dreams,

Fill the air we breathe with words of experience immense,

Feed those hungry eyes not with mere hope, but promise,

So that we carry each other into the gates of true independence

In every man, with the ring of the anthem,

Floods thoughts of that written history,

And soon our deeds shall merge into them,

And when it does, be sure that they merge with splendid glory!