Rabi’s Dad did not listen
With due apologies to Tagore
Where the bigot is without fear and the dead is held high;
Where intolerance is free;
Where the world is being broken up into vote-banks by narrow domestic walls;
Where seats come in the way of the truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards reservation;
Where the clear stream of reason cannot find its way out of the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is herded into ever-narrowing thought and action—
In that hell of reality, my Friend, I find my country astray.
(The links in this post take you to some fine posts by The Rational Fool—among this year’s best new bloggers)
Thanks, Nitin, I appreciate it very much. After Ekla Cholo Re, Mind Without Fear is my most favorite poem by Tagore. I couldn’t have asked for a better compliment!
Recently I read a joke about an American who found a phone installed in all the places of worship visited by him around the world putting a hefty sum as tariff for a call to heaven except in India where a sign read Re.1/- per call. The American was puzzled beyond his wits and enquired from a bystander how it comes so cheap in India when a call to heaven costs a fortune elsewhere. Pat came the answer: “Simple! It is a local call, you see!”