كثيرة هي رغباتي و ان بكائي من اجلها لمثير للاشفاق ولكنك كنت تنقذني على الدوام برفضك القاسي لها و يوما بعد يوم جعلتني جديرا بعطاياك العظيمة البسيطة ال… - Rabindranath Tagore

In the countries more fortunate than ours, the people discover their land in the ‘histories' of their countries which introduces them in their childhood to their land. In our case only the reverse has been true. It is the history of our country that has obscured the understanding, of our land... The way in which we receive education since our childhood leads everyday to a feeling of separation between us and our land till at some point we feel rebellious against it. Even the educated people of our country cry out in a dazed fashion from time to time: what do you call a country? What is its special spirit or ethos, and where is this spirit embedded or lay embedded before? Such questions do not lead you to what you are looking for... The prisms of the glasses given by others may be suitable for moving along familiar roads; they may be very necessary to wring oil out of the oil-presses ‘of examinations, but while trying to disown past mistakes and acquire new truths they are very unsuitable.

"THE TAME BIRD WAS IN A CAGE

THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to the wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the caged bird, "I should not know where to sit perched in the sky."

The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands."
The cage bird sings, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands."

There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times, in life after life, in age after age forever.