Gandhi: The Light of Conscience

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Gandhi: The Light of Conscience

When tyrants ruled with iron hands,
And darkness walked upon the lands,
A frail form rose, serene and mild,
Clad in white, with heart beguiled.

He bore no sword, nor claimed a throne,
His truth was fierce, his love well-known,
He faced the storm with folded palms,
And silenced hate with peaceful psalms.

He walked on dust where beggars slept,
And in their tears his promise kept,
For every wound he offered balm,
For every cry, his soul was calm.

The spinning wheel became his flame,
Its music rose beyond all fame,
He wove not cloth alone, but fate,
For millions bound by chain and hate.

His words were rivers, clear and deep,
That woke the souls long lost in sleep,
He spoke of God within each man,
Of peace, the root of every plan.

He walked from ashram to the sea,
To break the salt of tyranny,
Each grain he lifted from the shore,
Became a symbol evermore.

He taught the world that might is dust,
When hearts forget their moral trust,
That war consumes both foe and friend,
While love alone can truly mend.

In prison walls he sang his prayer,
His soul was free though chained there,
For freedom dwells where truth abides,
Not where a flag or army strides.

He spoke of women’s equal grace,
Of village life, of duty’s place,
Of hands that build and hearts that heal,
Of honest toil and common meal.

He met his foe with gentle eyes,
No anger there, no false disguise,
“Forgive,” he said, “for hate decays,
The soul that loves forever stays.”

He held a mirror to mankind,
That showed the blind how blind they’re blind,
That power blooms not in control,
But in compassion’s living soul.

He faced the gun without a tremor,
His heart a lamp, his will a mirror,
That shook the world yet left it still,
A mountain molded by pure will.

The empire fell, the flag arose,
But he foresaw both friends and foes,
“True freedom lives,” he gently said,
“Where conscience walks and greed lies dead.”

He spoke for all, of every race,
That peace alone is man’s true grace,
That nations rise when hearts unite,
And faith in goodness is their might.

The charkha spins, though he is gone,
Its song recalls the morning dawn,
When truth took form in mortal frame,
And history bowed to one pure name.

His sandals rest, but footsteps stay,
Upon the world’s eternal clay,
Where seekers walk, and dreamers find,
The whisper of his saintly mind.

The prayer-bell rings in distant lands,
The dove takes flight from bloodied sands,
And in each call for peace and grace,
We glimpse again his shining face.

O soul of truth, O child of light,
You taught us wrong and taught us right,
You showed the strength in yielding soul,
The power of love to make man whole.

In every age your words return,
Like lamps that through the tempest burn,
Reminding hearts that peace is might,
And silence stronger than the fight.

Though time has flown and empires fade,
Your dream endures, forever laid,
In hearts that dare to stand and be—
The voice of love, the truth set free.

Across all faiths, through storm and flame,
The earth still echoes with your name,
For truth once born can never die,
It shines beneath each human sky.

And when the world forgets its song,
Of right and faith, of weak and strong,
Your spirit walks through dust and pain,
To lift the fallen once again.

So may your dream in us remain,
Through joy and sorrow, loss and gain,
Until mankind, with open eyes,
Embraces peace, and hate denies.

And in that dawn, both calm and new,
Your soul shall rise with morning dew,
For Gandhi’s light, though ages flee,
Still burns in hearts that dare be free.

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Rupesh Ranjan