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Where was I lost in pages of the past?

Maybe in the qualm
Of Maitreyi,
Retained me awake,
Would wealth make her immortal,
If no morals existed.

Maybe with Gargi,
In the council of men she asked,
About the depth of soul,
To debate on the,
creators and creation.

Or was I lost,
When Madālasā held her child,
Assert him what it means to be a king,
Carve a monarch, as Raj-Rishi,
A woman to affirm her beliefs
And impressions.

Maybe it was in the tale of Harsha,
Or in Chandragupta II,
He let go of every promises,
To protect the home of his.

Surely it was a tale in the land of Pratab,
For the cost of sovereignty,
Prepared to even amputate the sky,
So the flag of honour is high.

Or was in the words of Chhatrapati,
Learned by him the cost,
And the essence of swaraj,
Which incited Lakshmi.

Years ago a dream was discerned,
Fetched into being by Sarabhai,
Kalam made it apparent,
To transmit our glory into the sky,
I am misplaced,
In the words of Wing Commander,
Sare Jahan se acha.

Indeed we stroked the Mars,
With the prospect to carry that flag,
Into unique heights.

I was lost in past,
To find my present,
From that– to build a future.

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