Fallen truth

Not by the bullet alone was he taken,
But by hearts that his truth had shaken.
Hands that pledged love, yet sowed disdain,
Eyes that saw, yet turned from pain.

They dipped their hands in the river of material gains,
Those dishonest followers played all crooked games.
Clutching coins, bowing to power’s sway,
They left his words to wither away.

They hailed him in speeches, in hollow praise,
Yet walked dark corridors of selfish ways.
The salt of the earth, the torch of the land,
Crumbled to dust by a trembling hand.

O Gandhi! Your steps were gentle, yet bold,
Your heart a flame against cruelty and cold.
You dreamed of a world washed clean by truth,
Yet they toyed with lies, mocking your youth.

The nation that claimed you as its pride,
Turned a blind eye, left justice aside.
For every hand that failed to shield,
For every voice that refused to yield,

The dagger of greed and the bullet of hate
Met in a tragic, relentless fate.
Not Godse alone, but the world around,
Killed the truth where it was found.

O sons and daughters of a fractured land,
Can you hear the whisper of his gentle hand?
“Live what you preach, or see all fall,
Stand by the truth, or answer the call.”

The cities gleamed with smoke and steel,
But hearts were barren, void of zeal.
Temples and courts, markets and streets,
Echoed deceit in quiet retreats.

The powerful laughed in gilded halls,
Blind to the cries from shadowed walls.
They smiled at his words, but never obeyed,
And turned from the light that he displayed.

O Gandhi! You walked barefoot through strife,
Bearing the burdens of an oppressed life.
Yet the followers, drunk with gain and pride,
Left your vision cast aside.

For every coin they chased in greed,
For every wound they refused to heed,
The ideals of love, the call of peace,
Faded like mist as their trust did cease.

Still, O sage, your truth remains,
A river unbroken through worldly chains.
Even in death, your whisper flows,
Through mountains, plains, and endless throes.

Rise, O hearts, who dare to dream,
Break free of avarice’s cruel scheme.
Let not the crooked games of men
Bury the truth again and again.

The bullet may pierce, the tyrant may reign,
But virtue will rise, despite the pain.
Let the meek inherit, let the honest stand,
Let Gandhi’s truth reclaim the land.

O world, remember, the lesson is clear:
Lies may flourish, but cannot endear.
The hand that wields greed, the eye that turns blind,
Leaves the soul empty, the spirit confined.

Walk the path he laid in light,
Turn from the darkness, embrace the right.
For those who live his way, unshaken,
Are the ones who cannot be taken.

So speak, O world, let your conscience rise,
See through the veil of false disguise.
Not by Godse alone was the flame struck low,
But by hearts that refused to let it glow.

Yet hope endures, as morning breaks,
Through rivers, valleys, and golden lakes.
Gandhi lives in the hearts that care,
In hands that toil, in voices fair.

O fallen truth, rise once more,
Sweep away greed from every shore.
Let love and justice guide the way,
And turn the night into brightest day.