Words from beyond the grave of a Martyr
I hear the voices above oh so strange,
Glad I am to awake from a slumber 60 odd years too late,
Is this really Gods grace?
I dig my way out, the earth smells so sweet,
tears of past in my eyes, I can’t help, it hurts as they bleed,
my time has come, to walk the Earth scented in my blood,
should I be nervous, scared, or walk the earth as if I didn care
I see progress, I see industries,
I see the high rises and I see them streets,
I see a nation thriving and driving economies,
but is this all my mother resurrected me to see?
behind this facade I see no communal harmony, no peace,
militants in different outfits blow-up what they see,
bribery and corruption rapes our democracy,
what the Mughals and English once bastardized, we Indians do not see
resources flushed down our WC's,
crimes on the rise, factions of society do as they please,
the media directs what they want us to see,
politicians battle over minor issues, the major ones they do not see,
as I go back to my grave, my heart can't help but bleed,
the vision we once saw was, perhaps, was for someone else to see,
I ask my mother is this how you intended things to be?
she replies not, for dear citizens its upto you and me
- Prashant Kumbhat
