Poetry

Lines Etched in Stone

Born with a label, a burden to hold,

A line etched in stone, a story untold.

Caste, a web spun, a destiny pre-made,

Lives intertwined, in a system that's frayed.

The Brahmin, the priest, with knowledge imbued,

Yet some denied wisdom, forever subdued.

The Kshatriya, the warrior, with valor so grand,

But strength finds no meaning, in an unequal land.

The Vaishya, the trader, with commerce his might,

But wealth cannot purchase, a future that's bright.

The Shudra, the laborer, with calloused hand,

But sweat and devotion, earn a place in the sand.

Untouchables, unseen, unheard and unnamed,

On society’s fringes, forever untamed.

A hierarchy rigid, a birthright's decree,

Dictating your purpose, for all you can see.

But hearts beat the same, beneath every guise,

Love, hope, and ambition, in all human eyes.

Can lines etched in stone, forever divide?

Can humanity rise, with a spirit as guide?

Let the walls crumble, let freedoms take flight,

Break the chains of caste, and embrace what is right.

For merit, not birth, should pave life’s grand way,

In a world where we stand, as one human clay.