We were born slaves.
Enslaved by the rulers for ages,
soon after stepping out of the caves.
There were kingdoms all around,
there were rules that had us bound.
We obeyed all their orders,
even if it meant killing brothers across borders.
It started with the Maurya dynasty and
continued till Brits left ghastly.
The nation was torn apart and
was forced to restart.
We were fooled in the name of freedom,
standing in its way would not be less than treason.
We are still the same herd,
controlled by the wolves and overlooked by a bird.
It was carried out in the name of democracy.
Not known to many but, it sounded classy.
In reality, it was nothing less than aristocracy.
Few were moral but, to many it was debauchery.
The scene today has completely changed,
the prey picks the predator,
the one that is not in close range.
Just trying to delay its own death.
The hero continues to martyr, as they obey the order.
Today they are killed within their own border.
The nation that once was home to communal harmony,
is now divided, scattered and lost in the religious cacophony.
Our mothers, sisters and daughters are appalled,
knowing that they are considered as meat and
the names that they are called.
The belief is pruned and doubt is rooted.
The yin is garnered and yang is uprooted.
But somewhere there is a frail thread of hope,
the thread that once was as strong as a rope.
That the chivalry in the people will transcend,
and lead us, to put an end.
We will catch hold the wolves and the bird,
tame them and no longer be slurred.
It is not prejudice that runs in our blood,
Patriotism it is and we announce it with a thud.
