A Dialog between Father and Son
My son get up, the country waits for you
Destroy all your doubts
Strenghthen your will
A bright future lies in your hands.
What country father ?
I know not where I belong
I owe you for my birth
And that’s all I owe in this world.
My son, what about the Martyrs,
The sons of the soil who laid down their lives?
What about the dreams they had for you,
And for our dream motherland ?
Dreams are but, made of snow.
They melt when the sun shines
I am made only for myself
I live only for me and mine.
Is this the respect you have
For a mother so kind and loving
The entire nation looks upto you
And you make such a silly pretence.
Pardon me father, I make no pretence
Your ideas are made of patriotic stuff
Too old to make the difference
Sacrifices worthless, you have made enough
Ashamed I am of you my son
What is wealth, but selfish gains
You live on castles made up of vice
They last not long, Only goodness does
You may look down upon me, father
But please open your eyes
Have a look at this country of yours
The land of the graet, though none exist
They murder the child, for shes a girl
They burn their wives and not just widows
They force the homeless to pay rent for slums
They beat their wives and not just oxen.
Oh Father, in spite of all this, do you still look down upon me
The world may be as it is my son
But definitely you need not be so
I look down upon you forever
Till you decide otherwise.