I was feeling sad and red,
I didn’t know, which way, nation was going.
There were quotas all around,
Communal, caste, gender, language, regional and physical,
And what not, do not know.
Quota in the air, quota in the sky,
Quota in the ground,
Quotas everywhere.
We are here as in a caste republic,
Swept with the farce of equality and secularism,
Where racism is the grating roar,
Bring the eternal note of discrimination.
Alas! There was no peace,
No help for needy poor, dying farmers,
Braving soldiers and wailing widows,
Where racial leaders loot day, in and day out.
Looking high and low, reservation every where,
Merit was trampled underneath the boots,
It was wailing in the brutal world,
Humanity and merit was burning.
It was not a wild fire,
It was the fire of innocence,
Youth, merit and justice,
And knaves were counting their votes.
They were not the brokers of social justice,
They were not the paid ponies of secularism,
But it was the truth burning for justice,
It was the merit crying for honor.
The knaves were dancing on their pyre,
Waiting for another pray, to be burnt alive,
They were cruel masters and have no pain,
Butchers were shining the dagger to stab merit.
They died for justice, vultures live for injustice,
They died for merit, they live for destruction,
They died for truth, they live for farce,
They died for the nation, they live for decay.
Remember it was not a simple fire,
The hot blaze will burn the knaves,
One day the butchers will get the message,
Or else, as in the past, nation will be devoured by slavery,
Ah God we shall be true to our nation,
Long live constitution of India,
Long live our racial leaders,
Long live apartheid’
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