it must have been somewhat similar
decades ago
when an inner voice would have screamed
a chord would have stuck
and millions paraded
to the melody of freedom
being part of a generation born free
i have often pondered
what drove those wonderful people
born with love in their hearts
and humility in their souls
to part with the tranquility of their homes
the loving hugs of their daughters
the protective shield of their parents
the harmony of their routines
and jump into the burning flames of protest and conflict
what drove those wonderful people
to offer those heads so fondly stroked
by the supple hands of their little ones
to the bludgeons of blood soaked batons
what drove those wonderful people
to kiss their mother’s feet
in the stillleness of the night
then disappear into oblivion
to partake in the fight
what drove those wonderful people
to dawn pristine white robes
so lovingly creased and caressed
by their doting spouses
and jump into bottomless pits
of death or endless pain
it has always felt surreal
that era gone by
those wonderful people, no more
it has always felt surreal
those uprisings for a cause
that deeper sense of purpose
that irrepressible societal core
today the streets are brimming again
with endless hearts in full bloom
a rare glimpse of an era gone by
a surreal upsurge of sentiment
where the eyes see no reason
the mind sees no loss or gain
the soul rejoices in celebrations
while the body suffers in pain
at the helm an aged, selfless being
in pristine white
full of energy and passion
awakening the collective consciousness
of a declining nation
a senseless crusade
a senseless crusade
or perhaps a true tribute
to THE Mahatma
