“indira gandhi”

In Delhi’s pulse, a whisper grows—  
The lioness walks where the Yamuna flows.  
Indira, clad in sari’s grace,  
Steel resolve upon her face.  

Born to Nehru’s storied line,  
Baptized in fire—destined to shine;  
From Anand Bhavan’s marble halls  
To Parliament’s echoing, storied walls.

A dynasty’s daughter—yet all her own,  
She sowed and reaped what history’s sown;  
With silver streak through raven hair,  
She summoned storms, reforming air.

Green Revolution’s nurturing hand,  
Fed the millions of a famished land;  
Yet shadowed, too, by midnight’s cry  
When freedom’s candle guttered, dry.

Through war and peace, her mettle shown,  
Bangladesh’s birth her battle won;  
Her voice—like rain on thirsty plain—  
Compassion deep, resolve unchained.

Mother to a nation rife  
With hope and hurt and teeming life—  
She bore the burden, paid the price,  
Her legacy: both fire and ice.

Still, in India’s memory stands  
A woman bold among the lands,  
Her triumphs sung, her flaws confessed:  
Indira, India’s steel-clad vest.

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