Sindhoor-She Wears the Red of Power

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 She wiped away the red they gave—

Not out of shame, but fire within.

No mark to bind, no vow to crave,

Her silence spoke where screams had been.


They named her weak, but little knew,

She holds within a nation’s flame.

In her breath, the Tiranga flew,

And victory surged through every name.


She bears the strength of three great powers—

A soldier’s oath, a woman’s will,

A homeland rising through the hours,

With courage born from blood made still.


She walked the fields where battles roared—

From Kargil’s heights to Longewala’s stand.

In every cry, her spirit soared,

In every fall, she shaped the land.


No crown she needs, no borrowed throne,

She carves her name in granite stone.

Not just a tale of tears or pain—

But power forged in war and flame.


The red she wears is not for show,

It’s valor streaked across her brow.

In her, the soul of India burns—

Unyielding now, and never bows.


Let nations watch, let tyrants flee—

For when she rises, chains will break.

She is the thunder, calm and free—

The storm that only truth can wake.

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