What is the date?
Oh! India's ill fate.
Ah! The 15th of August,
Day of utter shame and disgust.
And have I not forgotten
Slavery and poverty all begotten.
60 years is the time passed,
One after another, sped so fast.
Year after year, giving a holiday,
Just pray it is always one weekday.
Some say, "60 years and nowhere...",
Others bray, "What do I care!
After all, here's not where I shall live,
Two hoot is what I have and now will give.
Leave this place to earn and be good,
Go to paradise for riches and food."
Gandhi? Nehru? Bhagatsingh? Bose?
Who they are God only knows!
Some men, I guess, who helped India get free,
From the English clutches, so much, I can agree.
Politicians, cricketers, police all corrupt,
I wonder, somehow they never go bankcrupt.
Smelly streets leading to dirty roads,
Spewing garbage and beggars in loads.
And this is the only gift have been given,
Riots, terrorism; this is India-driven.
But can she not ask, "What about you
Nothing's given to me and lot is due
Have you put a better foot forward,
Or only let the condition be lowered?
Did you, as a citizen, play your part,
Or forgot your duties and escaped smart?
You speak of staying and settling abroad,
But do you know of my culture? I guess not.
You pinch me about my poor and my beggar,
But have you bothered and been a saviour?
My streets and roads lay there unclean,
But haven't you too littered and been very mean.
My politicians, cricketers, police seem dishonest,
But have you not bribed, in a way, even the slightest?
No answers now do you have for me,
No reason for me to care for thee.
But still, I will try and do my best,
For it hurts to see my children in such unrest.
12/08/2007
