Praise shames me, for I secretly beg for it. - Rabindranath Tagore

I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest mad with his own perfume.
The night is the night of mid-May, the breeze is the breeze of the south.
I lose my way and I wander, I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.

From my heart comes out and dances the image of my own desire. The gleaming vision flits on.
I try to clasp it firmly, it eludes me and leads me astray. I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.

Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt
at being told that it is a fragment
awaiting perfection.

When such imagination and sympathy are essential to write India’s history, We cannot depend on others. There is no objection to receiving, help from others when it comes to the collection of facts, but to weave these facts into a whole and make them alive we have to use our own strength. If Indians write the history of India there is some chance of partisanship or bias, but it is contempt and lack of sympathy which distort historical writing far more than bias or partisanship: Besides, while writing history, foreigners get tempted to impose the ideals of one country upon another; that also cannot be considered a blessing: Whether it will be possible or not, we shall rescue OUT own history from the hands of others: we shall look at India with out free eyes—that joyous time has arrived”