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!



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