Image by 1716750 from Pixabay
We bow before the very holy eyes,
Of the goddess residing in the skies.
We worship the girls as the deities of righteousness,
But India, the sovereign, socialist, democratic republic,
The land of the gods, where women are hit with rods.
The story of every brown girl,
To a be perfect marriage material,
No matter how many flags of benevolence she unfurls.
Dreams that her heart yeans to be her reality,
But her beauty is the one that fuels her vitality.
The power to question the norms,
The authority to forge our lives beyond our physical forms,
Maybe I long for a place that I have never known,
A place where seeds of equality are sown.
Where every soul prospers,
And capability is the way society deciphers.
Once conferred with a chance,
They detach from the convoluted glance.
A land where there exists no income gap,
And merit is the barometer of his fate,
Not being born in a rich father’s lap.
I opened my eyes from this beautiful dream,
Maybe the change is on its way,
Or is this as ethereal as celebrating the 14th of April as valentine’s day?
But believe me!
Beliefs can change the hammered wheelings of mediocrity,
Where every soul is treated with dignity.
It is time to change,
To bring a revolution again.
People deserve to shed the counterfeited fallacy,
Presented to them,
And the litmus test of the democracy,
Will unearth the truth to them.
Where we filter the truth from the lies,
And all of us wake up to a country,
Where fond passions in the hearts never die.
. . .
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