I go to bed, looking to start afresh
It was a long day, but I tell myself
There's always a new morning.
Its been this way for a while now,
And I'm starting to fear that,
Nothing's going to really change.
Everywhere I go, there's something wrong
With all the people in this country.
I walk out into the street,
A woman's appealing for justice,
Only to be ignored.
Suddenly, gurus aren't as pious,
Nor even reporters safe!
We take pride in our culture,
Yet we're letting ourselves down;
Looking at the wrong place,
In search of answers that lie within.
'Cause we got mostly us to blame
For all that is wrong!

The night sky was bathed with light
And the silhouettes became hills.
Peals of thunder rolled in,
As the first droplets of rain
Grazed against my face.
Over in the distance,
A storm brewed up,
While the train moved on.

The rumbles grew ever closer
The flashes of grey more frequent
The wind became chillier, but
All the weather did was,
Drive in the fact that,
I was coming home!

I took in all I that I could
The beauty of the mountains,
The sight of the rice-fields and,
The fresh smell of the earth
As the rain poured down.
The wind ruffled my hair,
The thunder roared, lightning snapped
While the train moved on.

The Brahmaputra loomed large,
In all its sheer majesty.
As I looked into the river,
A humbling awe swept through me
Only to be replaced
By the joy of coming home!

The busy road now lay deserted
And the pavements unkempt.
Not a soul could be found
Treading its once proud lanes.

The houses were mostly in ruins
Its inhabitants nowhere to be seen.
The untidy lawns a symbol
Of all that had been lost.

An eerie silence settled over the place,
Only to be broken by the
Rumbling of the leaves and
The whistling of the trees.

I can't figure out why
I'm this version of me
Except for the time
When I'm in your company.

For a long while,
I have fooled around
Pretending to be someone
Who I'm clearly not.

I am tired of being ideal;
All I want in exchange
Is to just be myself
And not worry for a change.

In this rat race to be fair,
Haven't we skewed our perceptions
Of beauty, and how we should be?
It sure shouldn't be based,
On the tone of your skin!
Wouldn't you consider it demeaning,
If you were the one ridiculed?

I have been lying, pretending, about most things me;
Its suffocating, disconcerting; and I can do this no more
Inside of me, I regret missing out on breathing, and its real beauty
So much that I can't wait to get a hang of life bereft the armor.

The smile on my face meant no one saw the tears behind the veil;
When others crumbled beside me, I came off as strong
While on the inside I was distraught, and going pale.
But no more, now the world will know they were wrong.