My Love , My India

[Sunds]

This is a poem I had composed afew years back for which I had received appreciation letter from the then President of India, Mr.A.P.J.Abdul Kalaam...

 

 

 

 

 

My Love , My India

In the beginning of human civilisation

When there were no nation

There existed a holy land

There existed my motherland.

When civilisations were few

And urbanisation was new

There was Harappa and Mohen-jo-Daro

Lothal, Kalibangan and Chanho-Daro.

 

This was the land of Sanskrit

of Pali, of Prakrit

This was the land of Gautama Buddha

of Chandragupta of Magadha,

This was the land of Ashoka,

of Mahavir and Kanishka;

This was the land of great souls

With great minds and greater goals.

 

This was the land of Milk and Honey,

of Gold, Silver and Money;

This was the land of age-old culture,

Of art, history and architecture.

This was the land of glory and pride

For which great heroes had died,

This was the land of teachings

Of knowledge and preachings.

 

Then came the foreign invaders,

Then came the ruthless raiders,

Who came here as merchants to sell

Who came here as butchers to kill.

Some came from Asia,

From Afganistan, From Persia;

Some came from Europe,

With some ambition, some hope.

 

People were subjected to cruelty

To torture and brutality,

People were made to weep

And their sorrows ran deep.

People looked on with helplessness and pity

As this nation was reduced to poverty,

And there was a time

When patriotism was a crime.

 

Then there came a 'Messiah'

A noble son of 'Mother India'

A simple man clad in Khadi

And named 'Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi'.

He spread all around India

The concept of 'Quit India'

And suddenly with patriotic cries

Rose the daring 'Satyagrahis'.

 

People began to revolt

People made their own salt

People began to fight

For a cause, just and right.

The foreigners were forced to quit

Slow and steady, bit by bit;

And with the beats of the drum

One day India got freedom.

 

And today there is faith and aspiration,

That through people's perspiration,

There shall be a new tommorrow

When there will be no sorrow;

When every Indian will one day

With pride and honour say,

My India, I Love You

I Love You, I Love You.

 

---Sunder Rangarajan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[kshama]

Nice words.