Saturday, 23 March 2013

The agony of Bhagat Singh

I had a dream,
I fought for it,
I tried to break the shackles around,
I lived to die,
And die for a dream,
I wished to die on my free ground.

I laid my life at altar,
I shed my blood for her,
They tightened noose around my neck,
But my dream did not waiver.

I walked smiling through the gallows,
I sacrificed for the dream,
But is it the dream, I fought for,
My blood curdles and screams.

Is this the freedom I envisaged?
I see my dream being crushed,
I see my dream being mutated,
By my own sisters and brothers.

I wish I could be born again,
Ready as ever for that pain,
Ready to be hanged a million times,
Can’t see my sacrifice go in vain.

I plead to god, he answers no,
This country will not welcome you,
Speaking truth is anarchy for them,
They will call you an anarchist too.

No Gandhi, no Azad can breathe,
They will doubt your actions true,
This country bleeds for silver screen,
Not for Bhagat, Sukhdev and Rajguru.

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