Author’s note: This poem was written for a prompt on a digital platform, ’Plethora Blogazine’ and was one of the winning entries.
And she arrived with a silken thread,
the harsh truth lay naked and stark before her.
That her own buds and blooms of flesh and blood,
were tearing apart each weave of her integrity.
Mother Nation and her soft thread of love…
will that be enough to bring them together;
to re-stitch the pattern of diversity;
to bring back that motif of Unity?
With all the scars on her iconic beauty
and the trailing marks of limping freedom,
she gathers all her courage and will,
to bring them back and sew a drape of love…
She brings a soft patch of Pashmina from the mountains,
and from the Eastern parts comes a piece of Taant cotton.
From the Zaris of Benarasi Ganges,
to the South Silk of Nellore, Andhra and the Kanijvaram beauty.
She adds a piece of Mekhla and Mizo’s Puan.
With the Leheriyas and Bandhej full of vibrancy,
she weaves bright hues and tints,
with her silken thread of tolerance.
A lullaby in her soft voice as her trembling fingers move,
‘My sons and daughters, you all belong to me.
The blood that flows in each one of you,
is of one nation, one mother; no one dares divide!
Cover thyself in this drape of love that I weave of Oneness.
It’s the only identity you should carry,
No religion, no caste, no community…!
Just my children…Bharat Mata’s Bharatwasi.’