The brown common-man
Enjoys his freedom
Monsoon drenched.
In the rain
That pours on him
God is blessing.

With a smile on his face
Back-bent, sack on his head
For his family caring-
Carrying burden
The happy racing Indian
After fifty-seven years of independence-

Who wants to be in chain?
Well fed, rotund
But in the stomach kicked
Enslaved, barred, subordinated
Imprisoned for life, caged
That his self-confidence forever breaks.

The frail common
Bony man is not a glutton
Aware of duties, he is.
Please be kind, spare your hues and cries
For as the Indian common-man struggles
He needs anything except, accept your pities.