I came as a cradle of hopes and dreams –
bravely prepared to fulfil all promises.
But before my thoughts could hatch to ideas,
you broke my aspirations to little pieces.
I stood still and watched in sorrowful silence,
as you bartered my childhood for petty delights.
You hid from me all that you secretly feared,
and thrust me into a spate of endless nights.
I kept mum even as my innocence was raped,
and I was gifted a life of torment and toil.
I pushed my little body to its physical extremes –
with my sweat and blood watering the soil.
When you flogged me with lashes of injustice,
I stood through the ordeal without a complain.
When you made me walk on hot embers of misery,
I sought solace in tiny drops of god sent rain.
You made me a target of heinous crimes
You put my unexplored lands to fire.
You made me chop tonnes of wood,
only to fuel my eventual funeral pyre.
I could have put you on the map of fame,
had you allowed my inborn talents to bloom.
I could have widened your narrow horizons,
had you not condemned me to a destiny of doom.
I could have fetched you unparalleled laurels,
had you given me the tiniest wisp of chance.
I could have pranced beyond the farthest you saw,
had you not imprisoned me under your glance.
Let me glitter, let me flutter…
Let me spin my own success story…
Let my tiny feet and gifted hands,
swing and dance their way to glory!
Let my potential be fully and freely realised,
Let me be the torch that can light your dreams.
Nourish me with love, furnish me with wisdom,
and I shall lead you to a future that gleams.
Weren’t you once a delicate child, after all?
Haven’t you known the tenderness of small age?
Haven’t you once felt that frustration and fury,
when your mind itself was made your cage?
Has your worldly life taught you nothing?
Don’t you realise how much have you lost?
Have you once asked yourself while oppressing us,
how much did your ghastly mistakes cost?
Though you spend hours singing Him prayers,
we are so much closer and dearer to God than you.
Though you may cling onto senseless traditions,
we can always offer you something better and new.
So listen – before venturing to oppress us again,
We are your Future, We are your Past.
Don’t burden us with too many troubles too soon
Don’t rob us of our rightful childhood so fast.
NISHANK MEHTA | 28.04.2008