Nivedita
Nivedita
How close have you seen Ireland,
O maiden?
How much remote was America?
Had you ever seen the Indus, the Unicorns, the advancements in Mohenjo-Daro
In your dreams?
Had you ever drunk the drops of nectar
From the smoky utterances prevalent in Tapobans...?
How you became a sister?
How such a lofty lioness became a sister to all lambs,
All kids in India…?
When you used to think
Or to write
Could you see the filthy faces of Indian gloom?
Or the lotus-feet of an Indian sage,
Or His Majesty’s turban?
In fact, you had no need
Because you are soil,
You are lotus
You are the heart of Indian sorrow…