•

Stumble– fallen on my knees;

Behold them,
Every day their blood,
Write a story of,
My hope,

I remember a soldier told his tale,
A nation is great,
Of his people,
I were in people,
A hope for whom he survives,
Away from his family.

Better build a land,
Where every drop,
Of their blood is honoured,
No flavour of discrepancies,
Where the blood is Indian,
Where the flag abides high.

To descant the sovereign tune,
On the symphony of liberty,
Millions let of go their lives;
Whose name should I begin with,
Manikarnika, Mangal Pandey,
Or with Bose?

Thousands persist to be unheard,
But a breath of forthwith is proof,
The colour saffron is of their sacrifices,
In heart, they subsisted with hope,
That halts within us,
Prosper the land of Bharat.

•