My grandfather walked around his fields
Under a bamboo-ribbed umbrella,
His every acre was fenced off
By rows of spiky palmyra.
My father’s house was canopied
With mango, gulmohur and neem.
I have a balcony , and potted plants
And sometimes a few sunbeams!
I would feel happier if I could feel sure
That cutting corners in Life’s rat-race,
I have not shrunk my soul to fit my space,
Lost the freedom and the grace
Of my ancient civilization, its place
In the comity of nations!