I sing the song of equality.
I sing of the country
Where fresh joys blossom forth in, the hearts of men
And budding life shimmers in their faces.
Comrade, nobody is king- in this land and none a subject.
There is no man here poor and abject
Nor is there any, full of riches and money.
Here some do not. eat cast off rice-sweepings
And some all the cream and honey.
No one bows down here before the horses feet,
Or in front of the motor-cars wheels.
Hatred does not spring up here
In whitemen’s breasts
Whenever they see blackmen close and near.
Comrade, this is a place where all are equal,
Where the black and the white have no separate
graveyards,
Where they have no separate rooms for offering
their prayers.
There are no sentries or peons here,
Nor is there any police-troops fear.
This is the Heaven where there are no distinctions,
Where leaving aside all ‘quarrels
Men have clasped other’s hands as brothers dear,
Religion does not create differences in this place
Nor do scriptures raise any futile clamour.
The priests and padres, the mollah and the
moulvis
Drink water here from the same container.
Here the house of prayer for the Creator
Lies in the body and the mind.
Here His throne of sorrows
Is amidst the miseries of mankind.
Here He responds to men’s calls
By whatever name ,they may choose to appeal
Like the loving and fond mother
Ever ready and alert to respond
To the call of her child,
Whatever name he may call her by.
Here in this abode of equality
Different ways of apparel
Do not give rise to vicious quarrel.
Here clothed in dusty costume
Men are satisfied and happy,
Here in this land peace and equality.
