The Dauntless Children of Mother India

One night I had
a strange vision.
A mother figure was crying
standing anon.

She was draped
in tricolor cloth.
Those colors were so glorious,
seemed to me blazing forth.

I knelt down
In front of the statue.
She looked at me
with rue.

A mother can only cry
when her children are suffering!
Only one realization
was in me, dawning.

'Mother your children
are dauntless.
They will overcome surely
the sudden outbreak perils'.

All of a sudden
my vision was disappeared.
A stripe of sunlight
let my hope, stirred.