Many A Head, Same Indian Heart - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
If I’m an Indian, scarce had I a choice,
Yet having been one, sure adds to my joys,
Had the good lord asked me, I’d have opted
For a more affluent land, less crowded,
Less governed, garrulous less, less gloated,
Freer and open more, less bigoted;
And I can’t say if proud I’m one to be:
I scarce can credit take for what went ere,
Nor am I proud of what’s happening now;
And on balance, balance-sheet’s far from fair,
Nor can else be— surviving on somehow—
A shaky ship mid-sea, moored on mercy.
No, I intend to settle not abroad,
And feel no less relaxed here in my home,
I may dislike many a thing nigh odd,
There’s naught whatso still like under this dome,
This is where I was born, here I belong,
Here I intend to die singing this song.
There’s something deep rooted in this my land,
There might soils be of shine, glitzy and grand,
Where for the head of mine may feel inclined,
So would my hungry maw; led by heart, yet,
In whatso way repaying my due debt,
To my dung-hill I hasten to rewind.
My prayer and belief, colour and creed,
Bye-products are of the same Indian breed,
And so I’ve Indian kinship no less still,
Religion and rearing notwithstanding,
And deep sense of brotherhood do I feel,
In melody my own the same song sing.
A quarrelling and cantankerous lot,
One might say, but that is the Indian pot,
A calamity might it often take
To unite us; yet, all bubbles’ behind,
There flows what an Indian ocean does make,
Beneath myriads of heads and caps, one mind!
On 15th August, Independence Day
- Musings | 09.08.14 |
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