It was the best of times in India's History,
The birth of a Bengal nation brought forth the power of Indians,
The deserts of Rajasthan thundered deep and
The world wondered in silence and
Indira emerged as India's face.
Planned was her march with none to stop...
There came your jealous and you became very venomous...
Tempted by your divide and ruin policy,
A warriors' state began to war with her own mother,
And came the end of a glorious era with your cunning pen.
A young leader was brought after much thought
And he brought computers and optical fibres
He built his army with Pitrodas and Narayans.
Loved by his beauty and felled by his duty
Country was in the race yet again to gain
Oh, in vain... your cunning pen brought in a farce,
Called Bofors ... day and night you showed your might,
Lions falling to foxs' tricks was not unknown in History,
And you ended the life of a leader and the life of a nation.
Now after waging many a battle another leader is on the saddle
Unable to digest the growth of this nation,
Unable to swallow the fame of this nation
You are at your work again for a decade and more now...
You suck this nation's blood as a leech- no issues.
Why do you want her to shed it on roads and in battle fields...
My dear brother,
Why do you hate your own mother?
Should we allow a single mahavishnu's family swallow this nation?
We were a slave for the English Crown for two centuries,
How long this nation continue to be a slave for an 'English pen'?
Is there none in the country to stop this poisonous pen?
Cry, my beloved country!
Truth is fired and buried and
Falsehood is cheered and celebrated....
The pen that seeks the death of this nation is venerated,
The hearts that seek the growth of this nation are isolated...
Cry, my beloved country!
Cry, my beloved country!
