A day will always be remembered

Of what good is the blood
that can’t come to a boil?
Of what good is the blood
that can’t protect its soil?
Of what good is the blood
that’s not alive with ardor?
The blood that flows not free
it’s not blood, it’s water!
The day blood got appreciated,
when people realized its worth
was in Burma when Subhash asked
them to sacrifice for their earth.
He said, “For your freedom,
you’ll have to sacrifice.
You’ve lived enough in the world;
now death is freedom’s price.
In the feet of freedom,
the gardland that is spread,
Listen! It will be woven
with your severed heads.
The battle for independence
isn’t won on money, be sure.
Commitment to supreme sacrifice
is on barenecks endured.
The history of freedom struggle,
in black ink isn’t written or read.
For its sake, bravehearts have
let loose floods of blood red.”
In so saying the speaker’s
eyes had become blood shot,face had acquired blood’s hue
blood-red body glowed, so hot.
He raised his hands, declared,
"Give me your blood, come.
And in fair exchange,
I will give you freedom.
There was a tumult in the crowd,
hearts couldn’t contain the joy
Rallying cries traveled miles,
reaching the hoi parate
“We are, we are ready to bleed”
Only these words could be heard.
To go into the battlefield,
men stood ready, undeterred.
Subhash dared, “Not like this!
For they say talk is cheap.
Seal your commitment now
by signing on this sheet.
The person signing up here
has to dedicate his all -
possessions, relations, body, soul,
whole life to this clarion call
But this is no ordinary letter;
It’s a declaration of independence.
Drop some virile blood of your body
on it, I give you the chance.
Step forward and be counted
if Indian blood’s in your veins.
Step forward and be counted
if you call yourself Indians.
Step forward and be counted
by signing here in blood.
I offer a shroud, come,
to go with a smile into the mud.”
Everyone shouted back,
here we come, here we come.
In the cause of the motherland,
we’ll give our blood some.
The youth advanced with courage,
and they kept climbing the stairs.
With blades, knives, and steel,
they’d drop some blood of theirs.
Then in the ink of that blood,
they’d dip the nibs of their pen
and make their signatures on
the declaration of independence
saw an Indian faith all new,
when with their blood, the braves
wrote India’s history anew

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Beautifully written

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hatts off
awesome :ok_hand::ok_hand::ok_hand:

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Thank you

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Thank you so much :hugs:

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