Winds of change.
The wind blows ‘cross the mighty motherland,
Made of hills, plains and sands.
Traversed by the raging rivers,
A land full of givers.
Givers of knowledge so vast,
Harboring ships with their masts,
Bearing any flags,
Not knowing that they would turn ‘her’
riches to rags.
To shed the rags of bondage,
Her children gave us the adage,
“Fight for swaraj, our birthright”,
And “No one can challenge satyagraha’s
might.”
The times have been changing,
But the winds have stopped blowing,
Telling us that we have indeed
progressed,
But we also have transgressed.
Transgressed to such an extent,
That we are now indifferent,
To those who betray our “mother”,
By saying, “Oh! It affects some other.”
We forget that we might be that some
other person,
And while the corrupt hold our “mother”
for arson,
And the debauchers roam around in glee,
Our mother will never be free.
The winds of change shall blow once
more,
This time we shall eradicate the gore,
With the ancient ethereal wisdom,
Giving ‘her’ true freedom.
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