A country a land
where rivers, tributaries
merged after flotsam jetsam
color, religion, race, mingled
into architectural shapes, texture
a huge monolith, a temple of bewilderment
a country where war and peace lived
where ancient seers told stories of a King
or a great ancient battle, bedrock of entire
civilization. Where foreigners sought expediency
ruled, shattered economy but foisted a language
a hermitage an offspring, Macaulay’s pen spurned
a language, even they say Renaissance
such was the power of his minutes
a country of Maharajas spawned at feet of new rulers
till a nation in making became a nation breaking
into tears of wisdom, dirty blood
Go back they shouted
and they went
after they left murmurs of hope, secularism, freedom
rent skies a nation in making, making
made they said in triumph
years passed like ripples in ocean
make, break, cut, fire, kill
you who are heretics, caste less, death less
ours is river of sanity
not your wholesome depravity
even as bodies floated
we preserved an ancient heritage
of man wearing skins and painting
his face to hide truth and mockery
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