We were not born in chains and pain,
But many died to break that chain.
They walked in fire, they lived in fear,
To make our tomorrow bright and clear.
They came from far, they ruled with might,
And took away our land and light.
But hearts of gold and spirits high
Refused to bend, refused to die.
They wore no gold, they ate no feast,
Their clothes were simple, hopes the least.
They spun Khadi, they lit the flame,
With love for Bharat, they played the game.
A soldier’s cry, a farmer’s pain,
A mother’s tear in silent rain.
From village lane to city wall,
Our people rose, one and all.
No guns they had, no sword to fight,
But hearts of steel and endless might.
They spoke with truth, they broke the rule,
And walked with Gandhi, calm and cool.
They marched with truth, with heads held high,
With spinning wheels and battle cries.
They broke the chains with words and song,
They showed the weak could still be strong.
They faced the jail, they bore the rod,
But never bowed to foreign god.
From Dandi march to Delhi gate,
They fought with strength, they challenged fate.
In Jallianwala’s silent ground,
The blood of brave still speaks, still sounds.
In Dandi's salt and Sabarmati's stream,
Lies the soul of Gandhi’s dream.
The wagon’s breathless, deadly ride,
The cries that Quit India supplied—
Each step they took, each law they broke,
Lit fires that never choked.
Bapu, Bose and Bhagat Singh true,
Lived for us—and died for too.
Each drop they gave, each breath they lost,
Gave us this freedom—but at what cost?
They lost their homes, their peace, their years,
Yet never bowed to doubt or fears.
And when the midnight hour was near,
Our flag rose high with pride and tear.
So when you walk with head held high,
And see our Tiranga in the sky,
Remember them—those brave and pure,
Whose love for India will always endure.
Let’s not forget, let’s always care,
Let’s live with pride, and always dare—
To keep her safe, to keep her strong,
To sing for her this lifelong song.
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