The unknown Indian follows an uneven course,
Always gets into doubt and remorse,
For the ethnic wish to come true,
It’s me but not you…
Life at the valleys or backwaters at discourse,
One still and another in a silent pose,
Turbulent rays withstand the hope,
Say either you or me or say,
It is me but not you…
The civility in its highest regard,
Stood in the tradition the frontier guard,
Breaking through the clutches of the plural forms,
And on the stake are the highest norms…
The green paddy is all set to be reaped,
The confluence is yet to be missed,
Despaired through the ages and humanity, the vanguard!
In midst of proclamations, it battles hard…
The infants sees the life to liberty,
As the same is questioned with curiosity,
What if the nationalism won’t ask you ,
It only asks for a responsive loyalty…
Cherishing the faded solidarity,
The valley will be a heaven one day and
The lagoons will be salty…
whats fascinating is the way you have presented the facts into a wonderful tapestry…It
neither distorts nor flatters….
Thank you Ishrat for your assessment of the poem in its highest merit..It will continue to motivate me further for new creations and synthesis of values and behaviours and preach them.
goood work da….i m praised to being ur frnd
impressive….keep it uppppp…..