Father to his son

A little boy held his father’s hand,

As he passed by the statue so grand,

He asked his father, “Why is a crow perched

Atop that old man, why’s there no guard?”

Taken aback, the father replied,

“On 2^nd of October do we bring garland,

Sweets and flowers for this sage,

Who wished to see the tricolor fly with grace!

Political undertones that strip the mass of clarity,

Other hundred scars that mar the face of verity

Too critical of us we are, too many problems, dear?

Don’t our prayers the trillion gods hear?

That old man still believes in the power of charity,

The strength of self-healing, the valor of solidarity-

The crow wouldn’t mock his soul

If we could set the wheel of his ideals to roll-

If we could see what he saw, son,

If we knew Freedom was not free,

If we knew the old man needn’t a crown,

More than a poor traveler a tree! ”