I'm colored in the dusky hue of my motherland,

But my beloved marks my 'Vijay tilak' with her vermillion.

I have always been proud of being ambidextrous,

But now my hands shiver when in one hand I've gun, and the other holds hers.

The green of my eyes I had thought symbolises my birth mother and the nature,

Least I knew the emerald also complemented the hazelnut brown of hers.

The curls of my hair were always a trammel whenever I wanted to disguise,

But her soft ,slender fingers entangling in them, gives me a victorious sense of trapping her.

The stir of the river always used to calm the stir of my mind,

Now the same ripple creates a havoc in my heart, for it reminds me of my storm.

The dingy boat I used, to sail the murky waters of my tunnel -visioned life,

Looks vacuous when my eyes steal a glance at a certain spot.

The melody of my flute which has sung the praises of the country ,

Today delves for the tempo of a Scottish ballad.

The free verse of the slogans of 'Inqalaab' I had sung all along,

Now rhymes upon itself and sits on my lips.

I thought her to be the princess, but she was born to sovereign as a queen,

Not just of my kingdom, but my heart and my soul too.

Now when I look at the horizon and meticulate the next mission,

I felt my fingers being intertwined with another set of five.

I turned and my forest emerald met with her dusky hazelnut,

As her proud smile conveys the message through a bow that strikes my heart.

"I gave my promise in the hour of bloodbath,

Not to back out in the hour of battle,

For we both know what it is to lose a mother,

Ain't going to give up this golden field day."