The Fire That Never Fades

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 A Poem for India’s Independence Day-2025


From dust of time and sages' flame,

A voice arose — not loud, but name.

Not carved in swords, nor ruled by crown,

But born of truth where souls don't drown.


She walked through fire, yet did not fall,

In chains, her spirit stood ten tall.

They came with war, with cross and greed,

But could not break her sacred seed.


A farmer bowed beneath the sun,

But bore the strength of everyone.

A mother wept, yet in her eyes,

The Ganga flowed, the phoenix flies.


Her children, taken, sold, betrayed,

Yet deeper still, the Self she made.

Not built on gold, nor market’s lie,

But starlit chants beneath the sky.


The Gita's call, the Buddha's peace,

The saints who danced, the flames that cease —

All whisper still, through storm and dust,

“Be fearless now, in truth, in trust.”


So when they wrote her name in chains,

She answered not with hate or blame.

She rose in silence, soul ablaze,

A thousand suns within her gaze.


Not empire’s thirst, nor conqueror’s pride,

Could shake the love she holds inside.

Not to be ruler — but to be free,

To master mind and mystery.


Now freedom rings, not just in sound,

But in the soil, the sky, the ground.

This Independence, not just date —

It is the death of fear and hate.


"So rise again, O land of soul,

Not just in flags, but in your whole.

You are the fire that never fades —

The light the darkest night obeys."


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