Retrospection

The saga of independence struggle

the memory continued to inspire

in late fifties

when we had pious dreams.

We used to stage demonstrations

In front of our offices,

March in processions through streets

Demanding pay rise

Or better service conditions,

While shouting slogans

A sparkle in the eyes much rare

Warmth of comradeship, solidarity.

‘Inquilab Zindabad’

Would mark the beginning

After ‘Jai Hind’ all would disperse.

Passing of the years witnessed

Gradual fading of dreams

And we developed apathy towards ‘Inquilab’.

However ‘Jai Hind’ survived

In the list of slogans.

Nowadays we disperse

without a loud ‘jai hind’.

The magic word that electrifies

the feeling of Indian-ness,

the passion that unifies

the pulses of millions

from the cape to Kashmir.

No dreams nor glitter in eyes;

dull and shadowy with

greed, hate and suspicion.

What the pupils reflect

is nothing but

one’s own ego.