Khadi clad visioners, Heaving bossoms and umpteen dreams.
The wind calls to the unison of our feet.
As we march for freedom.
Men our kindred and freedom our home…
We search for salvation.
As the messiah of moments plays in its vice.
With pride for my country whose lustre is shed.
Freedom is here.
Slays and shines, with the armor of dominance.
She echoes to the calls of us Indians.
She soars with renunciation, truth and fertility.
Our Tricolor, Our life.
The intoxicating sweet oils of freedom,
Is saturated in our bloods.
Proud we are, as farmers, as Indians.
Let this pride rule,
In platters of celebration.
And Independence.
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