Yes, My Friend, It Was 1857. I Poem By Riyan, 12, Ranchi
12-year-old Riyan from Ranchi writes a poem about the Great Rebellion of 1857, in which millions of people died while fighting for independence. A person narrates the glorious history of the 1857 Rebellion in a short poem to his friend.
Yes, My Friend, It Was 1857
Thousands rose at one spark.
Because it was so dark,
The shackles of colonialism
And the cruelty of despotism
Had made a black mark.
On the golden bird,
That was never heard.
But still, the candle lit.
With a spark
In the dark
Yes, my friend, it was 1857!
The rebellion of 1857!
Tatya, Lakshmi, and Badshah, to name a few
They did not let the British make any plan new,
Delhi, Kanpur, Jhansi were all stormed.
All British residences were bombed.
Their generals begging at courts.
But no one to have them escort.
And the whole of India has now become hot.
To throw the British
Yes, my friend, it was 1857.
The Rebellion of 1857
No Indian was now crying.
All were trying and trying.
But there were many dangers.
Because the British were no strangers
And yet, the Indians were not all tired.
They shot the gun and had the cannons fired.
Yes, my friend, it was 1857
The Rebellion of 1857
Though the revolt was vast and large,
The traitors were no less in charge.
They got to know the plans when
And conveyed them to their Englishmen.
And then, my friend everything was lost !
The Great Rebellion was now flopped.
By Riyan Dutta
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