A nation so rich in it’s history and heritage,
A nation so proud of it’s history and heritage,
A nation ruled by kings of all kinds,
From kind to cruel,
From Greats to Incompetent,
From Benevolent to Tyrants,

In the lights of today, this is all but a memory,
History to take pride in,
Present to not be presented to none,
The leaders of the masses are so putrid,
It makes one’s soul rancid,

The bearer of the banners of preservation,
Akin to nothing less of predation,
Calling themselves the sons of Bharatmata,
The mother calls upon the heavens’ might,
To shield her chastity from demons’ blight,

Dushasanas walk among us in the light of day,
Clad as common men, yet far astray.
The soul of civility lies cold in these lands,
Where neither law nor mercy firmly stands.

The jobless brutes, with chests puffed wide,
Proclaim themselves as culture’s pride.
With threats and chants, they roam the street,
Where reason dies beneath their feet.

Ages after ages Greats Saints came,
Told the people to stay sane,
Keep together thee will be strong,
Dividen thee musn’t to perils it belongs,

Poised to tread such land Incredible,
leave the sense of civic at home,
Carrying such virtue is futile,
least they be hostile,

Hospitality is they proclaim,
Torture is what I claim,
Taking back the modern man,
To ages ancient and bane,

Claiming the knowledge
from the Books their Holy,
Change there be always
Times be sad or be jolly,

Pride in one’s history
one must partake,
But the wish to revert
is a folly mistake.

The wheel of time paces forth,
Never to south, Always north,

Nostalgia is a poison, rotting the presents,
Ravaging the future, for kings and peasants,

For present one must care and
Future one cherish,
History be loved, but only in memories,

Incredible India, the land of free thought,
Brutes of culture to knees they brought,