Here we stand in Delhi city, symbol of old India and the new. It is not the narrow lanes and houses of old Delhi or wide spaces and rather pretentious buildings of New Delhi that count, but the spirit of this ancient city. For Delhi has been an epitome of India’s history with its succession of glory and disaster, and with its great capacity to absorb many cultures and yet remain itself. It is a gem with many facets, some bright and some darkened by age, presenting the course of India’s life and thought during the ages. Even the stones here whisper to our ears of the ages of long ago and the air we breathe is full of the dust and fragrance of the past, as also of the fresh and piercing winds of the present. We face the good and bad of India in Delhi city which has been the grave of many empires and the nursery of a republic. What a tremendous story is here; the tradition of millenia of our history surrounds us at every step, and the procession of innumerable generations passes by before our eyes…
Jawaharlal Nehru
Seeing the grinding stone turning, turning,
Kabir began to weep,
Between the two stones, not a single grain is saved!
There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest untill it has found one. And singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.
Thornbirds
Great god, I ask thee for no meaner pelf,
Than that I may not disappoint myself
That in my action I may soar as high,
As I can now discern with this clear eye.
