The Spirit of Bharat

Not too long ago when the world was torn by battle’s cry,

 When large empires crumbled, when stars went dry.

The empire's grip, once iron-tight,

 Began to ease, and lose its fight.

Once iron-clad nations, so mighty and bold,  

Found their strength crumbling, their stories retold. 

The British Raj, with the sahibs' iron gaze,

Had for centuries forced their will through fire and haze.

But now the expense seemed far too high,

As faraway battles darkened the world's rather gray skies.

As the tale is told, the crown's embrace,

Turns heavy, frail, with time’s swift pace.

So it goes the fights had drained both blood and gold,

And with it, India’s future told.

In cities, pastures, and remote lands,

The people rose with fire and steady hands.

For war had cracked the empire’s might,

And sparked a fire, burning bright.

Though freedom came with price and pain,

India, so long wounded, rose again.

The chains of labour, once so tight,

Slipped from her limbs in the fading night.

As the world fell deep into the approaching storm,

India like a fiery phoenix, arose from ashes and took her form.

With fatigued wings and a fervent blaze in her eyes,

She reached for a dawn much beyond the skies.

For evermore in the pages of history, a chorus shall resound:  

“इन्कलाब ज़िंदाबाद!”—freedom’s anthem will astound.  

With deep but healing scars as her strength and a never dying hope in her heart,  

India had emerged for a new journey had to start.

**Long live the revolution