THE CRIPPLED MOTHERLAND

THE CRIPPLED MOTHERLAND ​

Return, O Lord, the undivided India (Akhand Bharat), We beg You, Lord, with folded hands. Nothing remains with us today as a complete token of the subcontinent, Words fail to describe the colorful, golden greenery of the past. ​Ah, how soul-touching it was, The forests, the kings' forts, and that holy place Where there existed brotherhood, affection, love, and a friendship-filled call. ​Light is always there inside the darkness, To be searched with holy eyes. Darkness is always there inside the light, We do not wish to let it catch us. We, the human race, are always birds of the free sky. ​We are always bound by the love for our own land, And all our beloved movable and immovable properties. The soul cries out today seeing the fragmented map of the subcontinent, What did You do, O Lord, by becoming so merciless? ​Bring back the golden-yielding past, The glory-adorned radiance of the undivided subcontinent suddenly. We possess a human heart, with feelings of world friendship inside, Do not fly away our swans (souls/life-force). ​Crying bitterly today is our violated, limb-lost, hand-severed, Broken-hearted Mother, In whose lap our forefathers and foremothers had created The most beautiful heaven on earth (Martya-Baikuntha). ​We are not hopeless, always hopeful, Even though submerged in an ocean of grief seeing the limb-stripped Mother, Yet, we hold hope, trust, and firm faith in our hearts— That one day she will surely become whole and youth-filled again, our innocent Mother.

(​Composer: © Abadhoot Panda, Cuttack (India) Date: 11/09/25 )