Of equality, I sing
where we all have become brothers
with the same pain.
It is a simple question—
We are the same children of earth
but why is some a king, some a subject?
It is a queer philosophy—
If I utter this simple word,
I will be charged with sedition.
The subject turns a traitor to the king,
but whom shall I ask:
Why isn’t a king condemned as a traitor
to the subjects, committing so many crimes?
The subjects have created a king,
the king not the subjects;
Is that the reason why the king has castrated
them catching?
You have burst out into laughter, o friend;
Remember, we are nothing
but coolies and servants in our own home.
We have sacrificed our manliness for others;
what have we got in return?
We have become eunuchs going to guard
the king, kingdom and harem!
Whom shall I tell this pain:
My home is not mine, the idle knave
get the better of the honest toiler!
Those who make up the kingdom
have no rights in it;
The king-god enjoys all foods,
we remain hungry.
Whom shall I complain to
of this grievous injustice?
All around we hear:
"God save the king. Victory to him."
We the subjects are always judged,
not the king
because the court of justice belongs to him!
The war-drums sound horribly
and the youths rush to the battle-fields;
They offer their heart-rendering blood
and lives with smiles on lips.
Their dear ones sigh
and weep with bitter tears;
the ravens fly over the roofs.
The royal road gets ready—
Rejoice, o citizens,
we see the victorious chariot yonder!
Weep, o mothers;
o sisters, roll about on the ground in grief;
Wipe out your vermilion, o wives,
keep silent
because war is over.
Haven’t your sons come back?
Your brothers? Your husbands?
Why do you feel sad?
They now sleep in the lap of goddess of victory!
Today in the whole country
the slogan "God save the king!
Victory to the King! "
surfaces the flood of sorrow.
Play the drums! Rejoice, o citizens!
After so many days, the king has come out
of the fort!
The chariot of the king is running fast
trampling underneath
both the dead and wounded heroes.
Flee and keep off the roads,
o the lame, disabled, war-returned soldiers!
Friend, it happens so—
The subjects fought and won the battle
but they sang the victory of the king!
The subjects provide with the food and apparel,
but what a pity, the king is not servant
to the subjects,
subjects are servants to him!
We will bow down our heads to those
who are our servants!
Come, o you all and look at the public servants!
Revolve, o the wheels of time!
What a shame,
one hundred and fifty thieves are
on the shoulders of one and a half crore people!
It is not a day-dream of ours,
nor is the day very far
when we will hear all the kings sing together
the victory of subjects.
18/09/2018 Sirajganj
