When I first witnessed a hoist,
It was a shower of colors and petals,
A flow of nectar from palm to palm
Making my India.
Now I long for it in vain
Amid hollow words
The flag falters
In Kashmir with Pakistani flag.
Saffron white and green
No more a unicolored rainbow
And green suicide
Yet on each August 15.
I turn 15
Dream and dedicate myself to nation.
Perhaps that's a sigh of relief
When dream bleeds....