Flying High

It all started with bloody hatred,
That tore the earth and fragmented its hues,
Anger that had not been witnessed before,
Spread its tyranny and blackened the blues!

Gusts of stench swept by,
Emitted by the gory masses,
That lay scattered, drained and ravaged,
These once alive, now rotting carcasses!

Where had all the humanism vanished?
That pious talk of sweet sodality,
The sights ugh, diabolic disgrace,
Displaying lurid images that begged morality!

Could one patriotic slogan cause such mayhem?
Could one idea of freedom create such uproar?
Was this love for our countries so chauvinistic?
That it demonized all and swelled the lethal score?

One after another came the beastly tide,
That killed and with vengeance raped
Woman after woman, child after child –
All slaughtered and in red blood draped!

India had seen too much,
Exaggerated abuse bereft of wisdom,
And then on the morning of the fifteenth,
August was witness to India’s freedom!

And thus is the story of her independence,
She silently cried pitying the rage,
While all of us fought like fanatics,
She prayed like a mystic sage!

The black has cleared, given way to blue,
For one day this plague had to die,
And never again shall India be disgraced,
For the tri- colour kites are flying high!