Independence Day Sarcasm: Pleading forgiveness to Tagore

Where the mind is neglected and the head is immersed deep in the past
Where emotions are free to be inflamed by each and everything
Where the world is broken into convenient fractions by smooth selfish curtains
Where tomes are written without making any sense
Where tireless striving humans crawls to 50 rupees poverty line
Where the clear stream of sycophancy has lost its ability to laugh at sarcasm
Where the herd is led forward killing all possible questions
Into that heaven of inactive ecstasy, my adopted father and my disputed mother let me sleep