On the dawn of fifteenth fair,
India rose with a silent prayer.
Chains once heavy, broken wide,
A billion dreams no more denied.
The skies had sung a different song,
Of martyrs brave, and sufferings long.
Their blood became the ink so true,
That wrote the script of red, white, blue.
From Gandhi’s soul to Nehru’s might,
They marched ahead through darkest night.
With hope in hand and heads held high,
They painted dreams across the sky.
A nation born through struggle deep,
Awakened now from centuries’ sleep.
Each flag that flies in August air,
Is proof of how our hearts still care.
The children chant with glowing face,
Of valor, truth, and endless grace.
Their voices rise like morning bells,
Of freedom’s tale that history tells.
O tricolor, wave with pride,
With saffron flame and truth as guide.
The green below, the peace we show,
And wheel that makes the nation grow.
Let’s not forget the price we paid,
For every sun and every shade.
This land, this love, our sacred trust,
In unity, we rise from dust.
So on this day, let drums be loud,
Let every Indian walk unbowed.
We are the dreams our elders dreamed—
Their hopes fulfilled, their visions gleamed.
Jai Hind we say, with heart so wide,
On 15th August, with boundless pride.