Part I
Unfurled in the sky
The Tiranga, breathing air
As a sovereign.
Looked below for -
A while, in skeptic gesture,
To discover the truth
Of diffidence and dependence;
Brooming the dust of
An independent nation.
At the back of
The amphitheater,
Where spoke the
King of democracy.
Aloud. The emergence of
The nation. Then
Emerged a meek bellied
Hungry man
Indicating at the Tiranga,
To reflect his face
Like a mirror.
Deserted and fumed
But lo! No one saw the mirror.
Flowing across
In the blooded sky,
In blotted wings,
The bird of secularism.
In a flash sojourn
Above the Tiranga,
Dropped a stain of
The composite blood
Of the Indian mass.
But She couldn't hold
In its
Length and breadth.
Shy in the
Pretending air of politics
Remained blind.
(A note of dissent)
©gbdash
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