**INDEPENDENCE**

**INDEPENDENCE**

 (Dedicated to our brave Soldiers)

Seventy, a score, a number...

Democracy we sowed seventy years ago..

We are the children of this colourful nation..

A mother, a warrior, a strong vibe..

It flows and saved within our veins as an amber..

A country which is so popular..

We have vivid religion, a tricolour...

Distinct culture and a bright future..

We nurture, we chase..

We win and we loose..

But never forget some days..

Today is that day..

August the great fifteen..

We have seen; we will see..

We will celebrate, we will cherish,

All the moment of this day..

Days started with Jana Gana Mana..

O my dear Vidhata, the almighty, the mother..

Always bless us..

Purify us..

We will love you...

We will protect you..

With every bit of blood..

With all my heart till the day which comes everyday..

I love my INDIA

You are the reason I'm safe somewhere..

Salute to the Martyrs, Salute to this great Nation..

-KUMAR KRISHNA SARMA

*SOCIETY*

*SOCIETY* 

A tree with branch and fruit... 

We are their root... 

We build the sky.. 

But can't make their eye... 

They are so called relative and our beloved ones... 

They don't believe us and our postulates.. 

I once told that we are all bonded with amity... 

But here the fruits are cut when they are a not even mature... 

We always get a life with thousands of dreams... 

But it is succumbed by threats and our own keens... 

They can't support our back and front.. 

But they will throw pebbles right at our souls... 

We are distracted, yes we are... 

We don't even have our own backbone... 

we just got operated.. 

We are tempted.. 

We are molested.. 

But still we overcome.. 

We rise from the coffin.. 

We shout and come out... 

If you have something to say... 

Say at once, there wont be a next time... 

Cause all you got is just one life ..  

Feel and enjoy it.. 

Till the day you die... 

Die like a young kid.. 

Do the work like mature... 

You don't know when this journey ends... 

Till then be with me and enjoy the weather of love... 

- Kumar Krishna Sarma