"Where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been
broken up into fragments by
narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from
the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches
its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason
has not lost its way into the dreary
desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee
into ever-widening thought and action-
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father,
let my country awake."
- by Rabindranath Tagore
My sleep got disturbed, thrice that day;
I could not sleep tho’ a holiday;
My mind was filled with thoughts unclear;
I got up in the morn, much earlier;
‘Twas India’s Independence Day!
Thunder, lightning filled the night’s Sky;
The day much overcast did fly;
The Rain was just a drizzle that day;
Wetted the ground of mud and clay;
‘Twas 15th of August, a rainy day.
The pea-birds howled and groaned that night;
The Rain made them shiver with fright;
Though ten, it looked like six in the morn;
The Sun behind the clouds had gone;
The Sky ground-glass remained that day.
The leaky tap-waters that fell,
Raised wavelets, ploppy-toned and swell;
Rain-drops on cables looked like pearls;
Dropped, formed again, enticing souls;
It looked it would rain long that day.
Rain-drops hanging beneath fir-twigs;
Glittered in the scarce light like figs;
The whole tree was aglow, alit;
A thing of beauty, don’t miss it!
The Sky looked like a barred-white board!
A frail, brown-skinned, bony human,
With sack on head, bent-back, he ran!
The Indian was agonizing!
Tho’ people keep sermonizing!
Fifty years after Independence!
What good was done for the common-man?
- by Dr John Celes
“Is there ought you need that my hands withhold,
Rich gifts of raiment or grain or gold?
Lo ! I have flung to the East and the West
Priceless treasures torn from my breast,
And yielded the sons of my stricken womb
To the drum-beats of the duty, the sabers of doom…..”
The Gift of India
- by Sarojini Naidu
Better than Heaven or Arcadia
I love thee, O my India!
And thy love I shall give
To every brother nation that lives.
God made the Earth;
Man made confining countries
And their fancy-frozen boundaries.
But with unfound boundless love
I behold the borderland of my India
Expanding into the World.
Hail, mother of religions, lotus, scenic beauty,
Thy wide doors are open,
Welcoming God's true sons through all ages.
Where Ganges, woods, Himalayan caves, and
men dream God -
I am hallowed; my body touched that sod
- by Swami Yogananda, paramhansa