Gandhi Is Watching...

When the vendor counts and sighs in grief as the sun sets.
Gandhi is watching
When the beggar drags himself on the darke gravel in traffic.
Gandhi is watching
When the criminal minds shape the laws and hand the 'donations'.
When she rests in red and gold and watches her life carried away.
When the lights glow and children run from door to door.
When she combs her hair after a hard days night in those 4 walls.
Gandhi is watching.
When the robust seth chews his pan as he lifts it to the sun.
When the tears drop from tied hands and terrorising phone calls.
Gandhi is watching.
He sighs at us and wonders whether this was what he dreamed of.
Whether this was his dream.
To be sold as ransom or to be talked worse of.
An 80 year old had once held him tightly as he lay on his deathbed.
Crying for a way, crying for salvation.
As his final words escaped, he asked.
"Where has Gandhi gone ?"
And today with his hearty smile and frivolous vigor
He watches.
Watches through those circular frames
Watches this country rise on hopes, and burn in flames.