Monday, August 10

A mockery of the present...





I’m a small constituent,
Of this colossal land,
Yet when I see people walking,
Barefoot on white sand

It’s not their presence that unnerves,
But the absence of the human element,
It’s not the colour that discerns one another, I say,
But the thought that makes the dent

I chose not whether I be white,
Or blonde, or dark, or coloured; like they say,
It’s where I belong to, that shows on me
It’s something I want to be proud of, not guilty!

You come to my soil, and fancy the beauty,
Yet you question my being on your terrain,
I want to befriend you, like my own brother,
Yet, from being normal to me, you refrain!

I chose not my mother, nor my motherland,
Nor my parent’s colour, wealth or status,
Yet I’m proud of my country, my fellow men,
And of all I am, with a renewed impetus.

5 comments:

ankita said...

g8. its rlly gud1

Che Guevara on the Road... said...

Great thought buddy...appreciate...

Ritayan said...

its not just about walking barefoot on the white sand...but about leaving footprints on the sands of time...am proud too of your work and that we are Indians

harry hubcity said...

I like this piece

dimpi said...

nice one..
it's very touching....

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