0 Captain! My Sick Captain! One failed inning you played,
The nation has faced all the odds, the reward pined is relayed.
The target was easy, fragmented mind, people crying,
The courtier taste the cream, nation is sad and dying.
I see the bleeding masses in tattered,
My crowned Captain feigning cold and dead.
0 Captain! My Sick Captain! Get up and see the toll,
Rise up to furl the flag and hear the call.
People offered you banquets and wreaths taming,
But crushing them by your misdeeds, you are turning.
Lost in burqa, pagri and quota race,
Never thinks of hunger, thirst and labor rage.
My Captain turning aside, his lips are pale and still,
My leader does not feel the pain, no face, no will.
Crown is placed safe and sound, target closed and won,
From divided nation, the victory touched with sweet run.
Listen sad cries and ring the bell right,
Don’t be afraid of Madam White.
Crippled on the red My Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead he cries.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA