Indian Secular

Walking down the ugly road of his rusty old town
exclaimed an old secular, Oh what horror has befallen thee,
the alleys no more smell like saffron and where are the faces in glee,
fear rests in one of the corner and the speech is no more free.

At the end of a road, read a hoarding
Suppressed voices; are asking a way out through.
You have a love affair with your own voice
but for once have courage to try something new.


Democracy, it read is about accommodation
and not about appeasement or more rights.
Child with an extra candy will always
crawl back home alone after falling on the road.


Too Kind, Too Charitable but Too blind
emptying your own coffer, austere, dead