REMEMBERING THE FATHER OF THE NATION

        Remembering Bapu on the 30th of January

         '' Gandhi is dead,''

           The word  flashed

           Across the continents 
           Was he, indeed? 

           If death is the end 

           Of physical existence 
           He did die decades ago.   
    
           Shot at by an assassin's bullets,
           He became a victim of  hatred,,
           On that dark January evening

        To the utter shock of the whole world. 

           For his life and work was not confined,
           To his own country or region,
           But extended to the whole mankind,
           Striving for the right to freedom.

            And despite the physical demise,
            His aura couldn't be diminished,
            He wasn't just flesh and blood,
           But a spirit that can never be killed.

             He was not simply a mortal man, 
             But an ideology personified, 
            A philosophy put into practice,
            Acknowledged all over the world.

             Evolved from a simple individual,
             Into an institution of goodwill,
            Spreading non-violence and kindness,
            In the footprints of the great Buddha.

             who practised what he professed,
             And fought unjust oppression,
             With no weapons of  violence,
              But peaceful non-co-operation.

              How then he can ever be dead,  
              Who lives in millions of hearts,
              Still striving to liberate humanity
              From the clutches of selfish tyrants?

               To ensure that  goodwill pervades,
               And peace be universal discipline, 
               Is there any other option in view, 
               But follow his proven principles?