Our sufferings thousands of years old!

- Internet Poetry - Anil Chawda

- We don't know what calamity has befallen the cult, we know so much that the mother's call has fallen

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Our sufferings thousands of years old;

Um horror stories that tear the liver;

The blood of the dead and the tears of the living;

Surrender is your step, dear Lord!

The last sacrifice of our sacrifices: Amen K'J!

Lost um swadhinata tu fer deje!

If you want to get more original, ask for it!

In our last battle together, Re'J!

Prabhuji! This is our last war;

Show if the reason is our lash dirt-

Our tears have been washed away by blood!

Asking for prayers, if, the army um tatpar standing!

We do not know what calamity befell the cult;

Know so much that the mother has cried out;

Jive ma mawdi a kaj marwani ghadi che:

Do you care where your mother is?

- Zaverchand Meghani

There is a glorious history behind this poem. It is April 6, 190. The place is the court at Dhandhuka. Due to a mistake, Jodhani has been replaced by Meghani and Zaverchand has been arraigned before Magistrate Isani on false charges of treason. Prominent and anonymous people of Dhandhuka have gathered to hear the verdict. Just a few days before this incident, on April 6, 190, Meghani's collection of only 20 pages of patriotic poems 'Sindhudo' was published. The civil disobedience movement also started from the same day. Many copies were sold before the British government woke up and announced the confiscation. Meghani's heroism was reaching Janjan in the form of songs. Why does a poet like Meghani sit quietly when there is a call for freedom all over the country? While the heroism of 'Sindhuda' was stirring the minds of the people, an accusation was being leveled against Ladila poet of Gujarat! People are watching to see if the verdict comes!

When Magistrate Isanisaheb asked Meghani to present her defense, a wet pain may have appeared on Meghani's face. That is why he chose to perform the song instead of giving a defense. Surprisingly, the magistrate also allowed the song to be released. The pain in Meghani's haiya reached her mouth and as if thousands of years old pains erupted at once. Meghani, who was standing in the courtroom, was singing not only her mouth, but her fur. It was the cry of thousands of people's throbbing intestines, the heart-rending agony, the surrender of the blood of the dead and the tears of the living. Maa Bhom was eager to sacrifice in the yajna performed for the freedom of Kaj. There was a persistence on the road to independence. There was a thirst for warmth in the palm of the hand.

And this thirst had such an effect that by the time the first interval of the song was completed, the people's hysteria arose. By the second distance, the water of the melted Haiyan reached the eyes. At the third distance, the people standing there burst into tears. Even the eyes of the magistrate himself got wet with the cries of Meghani. The people rushed. How divine it is to see a poet standing on a bench and singing, with hundreds of people listening to him with wet eyes. Today we salute Meghani, take pride in her deeds, as she has made tremendous sacrifices for her. Blood and sweat have made one. Known as 'Child of the Mountain' or 'National Shire', the position of this creator is as high as Girnar in Gujarati language.

Not a single corner of literature like poet, novelist, storyteller, critic, editor, translator, journalist, researcher is untouched by him. Many of the folktales that fell in the land of Sorath were immortalized by his pen. Its diligence, yeast and diamonds reached not only Gujarat, but also India and the world. The bravery in his words filled many people with vitality and passion. He worked to make Paliya sit up. This poem bears witness to this.

It is good news for Meghani lovers and Gujaratis that the Gujarat government should make a memorial of Meghani in Chotila on the occasion of her 18th birth anniversary and make the entire literature of Meghani available through the website. Let's salute Meghanji by logging out with the remaining lines of the incomplete poem given above.

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Look at this, Taat! The open space is ours,

See, thousands of blood gushing from every wound,

See, the flames of injustice burn in the shadows:

Surrender, surrender to you all, dear!

Even if the night is dark - if you stand with a lamp!

Even if you make your bed in the desert!

Sing the battle cry of Maha Rankhanjari!

Play the melody of sweet flute to Maranta!

Our towers of hope are broken,

Thousands of ghosts roaring,

In spite of dedication, an ever-flowing stream will flow.

Mukti-kinara where nine Mavdis meet.

- Zaverchand Meghani