Oh, Dr. Baba
There he is, standing out like a tree day and night, in the sun and rain, in the winter and autumn. He is bound to the stone and is thus in the shackles. While trees have roots and get nourishment from the earth and grow, he is rootless. He has been turned into a static unlike a dynamic entity he was when he was alive. Birds sit on his head, his shoulders and shit there. A tattered garland made of synthetic flowers and ribbons hangs around his neck. He is so helpless that he can’t even remove that tattered garland and throw it away. He has been confined to this place by his own people for the emancipation of whom he fought for his entire life.
He had wished that he will live in the hearts of every Indian and thus be very happy and will be in the dynamic state. His followers have got many advantages due to his efforts. But human nature believes more in outwardly show rather than the sincere attachment. He is remembered on some important days such as the day he came into this world, the day he left this world, the days on which he made some very important declarations, vows and agreements.
Our government is also like his followers. It will also bath him, polish him and garland him on those days. Functions are held near his statue. While he observes helplessly, the loud speakers blare with heavy words from speakers. Every effort is made to give prominence to the caste divisions which incidentally have been kept alive by the politicians for their own selfish ends and have become more marked instead of diminishing.
He is yearning to be alive by making a niche in the hearts of Indians, not shackled to the stone posts. Release him and free him for he who has toiled day and night to free us has been shackled by us.