Between the rush from home, school, and another world
My day passes, my week passes. Months pass unnoticed.
Some day—one day—it will all be over
And I will have lived.
I live music: traditional, classical, Sikh sangeet.
It nurtures me, feeds me, makes my life complete.
It’s a beacon of hope, symbol of love,
Revealing sorrow, pain, anticipation,
And feelings unnamed and unexplained.
I read eternal words, the faces of the past, and the visions of today
That show me faith, courage, and survival. I try to believe;
I do believe—but sometimes lose sight
Of the destiny that is mine.
I sit and watch the world go by,
Seeing myself in others’ strides. Driven by ambition,
Greed, and pride; lust for the “high society” life.
The wind hovers around me, humming a melodious song,
Threading the world together, touching every heart.
Dirt rests beneath my feet, resilient, motherly,
And terrorizing. It houses the past,
Will birth the future, and carries the weight of time and all.
I never grow, the world expands.
I like deep thoughts, when I become immortal,
And spinning my sword when the sun shines just right,
Making the reflection bright and captivates the universe in its blows.
Occasionally a flower will smile at me,
And I know that’s how it should be.
Deep within me there’s a hidden face,
A face that summons my love.
It mingles with the faces of my sister, my Mata Ji,
And my Pita Ji’s fatherly warmth.
My siblings struggle for freedom, governed by
The prejudices of an undemocratic democracy.
I want to help my people and others seeking escape,
But will I be here long enough to see my world peaceful at last?
Only destiny can tell.
I’m a child of tradition, open green fields, and doves.
I’m a child of the world, and its wonders—all I have so far seen—
Belong to me.
|Mountains of Himachal Pradesh, India|