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Fear that Comes with Losing
Fear of losing jabs my stomach
In the open air, pressure from the French crowd suffocates me,
I drown in the picky eyes that watch me.
Between my sweat-drenched palms my blood-red racket twirls,
The musty clay’s smell drags my fluctuating focus back to the court,
Like a cat before pouncing, I am coiled at the baseline,
I feel the gritty court and I determine my assault.
As a fresh bud shoots out of a stem, the lime-green ball shoots out of his hand,
I hear the dreadful screams of the ball as she gets punched by his racket,
Adrenaline pumps within my nerves,
Waiting like a larva in a pupa to spread its wings, I see the ball come and I assail it,
She is launched like a prey after its prey-
The net calls me near her as he tries to lob the ball,
Hesitatingly I close my eyes and wait, wait for her to arrive,
This match is mine…
My Incredible India
My India is marvelous,
where minds are devoid of fear,
where beings live for others,
where there are more than 2000 races, but one prevalent and plain moto,
मेरा भारत महान |
It is where rivers of love flow,
it is where respect is tradition,
It is where peasants, bourgeois, workers and kings share a table.
My India was troubled a lot,
French kicked us,
Portuguese punched us, and
British ravished us.
My India has commenced to change,
So many just stand and watch, refusing to empathize.
So many are ego-centered, why?
Are we so damn scared to fight?
Are we held upon by our own traditions?
We struggle against this encompassing force,
But it pushes on us without remorse.
We are one.
The mere action of being Indian united us,
The mere smell of our home kills our egos,
The mere taste of India overcomes the force.
We are Indians and we are one.
मेरा भारत महान |
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