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.

What kind of patriotism is this?

When borders are warmed by the war,

Heart beats hard and blood is boiled,

When lives are laid down at the altar,

Only then our patriotism begins to rise.

The houses of heroes are thronged,

Rallies are held, rewards announced,

Tears are shed, speeches are made,

Guns stop and none is around.

Ashes cool and none care for them,

Who cares for those real sons of soil?

Who cares for those they left behind?

Why does then, our patriotism dies?

What kind of love for country is this?

What kind of unworthy sons we are?

We strangulate our mother every-day,

We fast for her during the war.

On august the 15^th and 26^th Jan,

And when a war movie is screened,

We chant the praise of motherland,

And rest days we forget it seems.

Songs are played and words are said,

Only to be forgotten the day after,

The paper flag that flutters with pride,

Is dumped around hither and thither.

What kind of patriotism is this?

Selfish and opportunistic to core,

Our love is like those waves in sea,

Rising high and dying on shore.

Will times change, will the day come?

When patriotism will be redefined,

When we will rise above the self,

The day mother India will smile.