Friday, March 11, 2011

India , my mother is indeed wonderful
With full of breeze and splashing wind.
Hills and mountains of height very high
Guard her glamour without any harm.

Rivers’, seas’ and springs’ water sacred
Prosper trees and bushes for her safety from sun.
Scented flowers and fruits their fragrance spread
To please my mother’s all daughters and sons.

Her great son Gandhi dreamt a great dream,
A dream by nature complete freedom.
Are we really independent?
Mother,no, we are dependent.

The rulers of, for and by politics
Carry in carrier no principles.
Currencies of corruptions fill their pockets,
Lies and liquors dip their tongues.

Country remains no more of villagers,
Just it belongs to cruel villains.
Seeds of terrorism grow here fast,
Bombs in abundance fall here and blast.

Extremism waters the plants of rivalry,
Destroyers harvest the fruit of conspiracy.
Lives of thousands leave this planet,
Wives of thousands lose their plans.

Little children with empty stomach
Wander here for food and bread.
Children rich from palatial residence
Throw their eatables in ditches and drains.

India’s children’s celebration day
Pleases only the young of Haves.
The little sons of penniless ones
Stretch their hands for a coin in vain.

Vehicles costing lakhs and crores
Comfort the weights in silks and jewels
Bikes and cars carry youths in jeans
And steel the sense of theirs in teens.

Play their part the drinks and Narcotics
To cheer the minds in discotheques.
Looting and killing are the hobbies of the day
Shooting and stabbing follow on the way.

Steeling and pick pocketing travel on bus,
Snatching gold chain occurs while one boards.
Contagious ailments are the guests in slums,
The dwellers of this place have no hope of smoothness.

Dollars doctors earn in millions
And discard the destitute in big despair.
Flags religions hang on regions,
Flag of Nation burns into ashes.

Not a drop of curtsey we see,
Nor a ray of unity we feel.
Wickedness fills the heart of persons,
Deceiving thrills the thoughts of people.

Where is ‘Ramrajya’ of equal rights,
A ‘Rajya’ devoid of terrible fights?
Preaching reaching the sky we hear,
Practicing a bit we don’t see at hand.

Still mother, you have sons a lot,
Who have attractive laurels brought
In the field of Science and fine arts,
And many spiritual and cultural acts.

The lining silver is if very thin,
Mother, you weep with much deep pain.
Your children will rise to wipe your stain
And pray and hope for the best to happen.


No comments:

Post a Comment