Sepoy

The sepoy looked up in despair

Unhanding the musket from his brother-in-arms

Passed on, muttering prayer

For the men and souls,

Lost and broken,

Ferried away, their lives stolen.

He scurried past bodies, under rain and hail

Of fire and lead, his ranks fell

The fire stuttering, becoming frail

Under cold advance of their might.

The sepoy looked out to call for his leader,

To call out in the dark night

I can still save my comrades,

The war is not yet lost,

Even as one falls, a hundred will cry

'Inquilab Zindabad!’, then the lead hit its mark,

And the martyr shuddered

Falling to the ground, without the spark

Of courage, he rolled over

Eyes fading away

Witnessing with his last sigh

The saffron and green taken over

By the jack of the trades

And the kings of the globe.