At the stroke of midnight hour 70 years ago,
The rich Indian soil awoke to Independence.
And as we revisit this word many decades hence,
Its vastness speaks wonders:
To the poor man lying at the corner of his hut-
And his little child feeding upon the biscuit he chanced upon
Freedom meant a walk with a high head.
On the parallel, at the unwillingly rich’s home
Freedom meant just a casual walk in the park.
To the woman sitting by the fire
Cooking her people their daily meal,
Independence was just being herself, and not others’ reflections.
While to the man burning the midnight oil,
Freedom was just one peaceful day off.
To the voiceless creatures fluttering in the sky
Freedom was the freest flight.
And to those below,
To the union of all these-
To the country that then woke up for the first time,
Independence just meant being free.
And fast forward to seven decades later,
Independence is now a cluster of universal glee.
Independence is now a cluster of universal glee.
No comments:
Post a Comment