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"vivekananda" poems
Freedom At Kannyakumari “The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms” Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion- of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision, “The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”. As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning we Indians imbibe the Western Culture; or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato Indians are produced, transmuted destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth. Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now ! Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants, by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour- in every other respects-Europeans (using imperialist - capitalist media); poor sycophants ,for a visa, the Indians: now , turn to the West for light, leaving the bright light under the Urn; cry for a way of progress, safety and food; and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body No retrospection or introspection, only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection. On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me, a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep; I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night: the surging sea spitting frothing snow upon the black rocky ******* protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair , ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha. Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death, I walked and walked searching shelter, but no room for a single son with meagre wealth. The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes hummed around me with highly rented room offer- source of tourism exploitation- I bargained, till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon cleaving the vapours of the sea, when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri; then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore; somebody among them, staring blear eyed as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed “O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed. The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
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Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
Freedom to Think
Freedom At Kannyakumari “The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms” Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion- of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision, “The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”. As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning we Indians imbibe the Western Culture; or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato Indians are produced, transmuted destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth. Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now ! Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants, by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour- in every other respects-Europeans (using imperialist - capitalist media); poor sycophants ,for a visa, the Indians: now , turn to the West for light, leaving the bright light under the Urn; cry for a way of progress, safety and food; and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body No retrospection or introspection, only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection. On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me, a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep; I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night: the surging sea spitting frothing snow upon the black rocky ******* protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair , ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha. Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death, I walked and walked searching shelter, but no room for a single son with meagre wealth. The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes hummed around me with highly rented room offer- source of tourism exploitation- I bargained, till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon cleaving the vapours of the sea, when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri; then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore; somebody among them, staring blear eyed as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed “O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed. The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
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44
THREE MONKS Morning sunbeams danced on the ripples Sparkling on the majestic flow of Mother Ganga. Noisy crowds of pious pilgrims from all corners, Pestered by ash-smeared, bargaining priests, Rushed towards the sacred waters for a holy bath , In a hurry to wash off their numerous sins And save themselves from Yamadharma's* wrath. Three solemn-looking monks in saffron robes, Moved briskly past the motley crowds, Looking for a less noisy, cleaner spot. At a distance, they saw a colourful launch, Carrying pilgrims across the vast expanse, When, all of a sudden, the launch tumbled And scrambling pilgrims, in panic jumped Into the river flowing fast over hidden rocks. Seeing their desperate struggle, the surprised monks Took a hasty plunge and swam towards the sinking launch And pulled some of them towards the sandy shore, While one of the sturdy monks carried on his back, A woman clinging to the side, breathing hard And left her after she recovered composure. Resuming their walk along the river bank, Two of the monks appeared rather grim and cold. Breaking their solemn silence, the frowning monks Called their companion a big sinner For he had carried a young woman on his back. Unperturbed, the robust monk said with a smile, Although he had carried a drowning woman on his back, He had left her safely on the river bank While the scolding monks carried her still in their minds And they hardly knew what detachment meant ! Startled and rudely awakened, the two monks Prostrated before Vivekananda, the awe-inspiring saint! *********** M.G.Narasimha Murthy *Name of the God of Death in Indian mythology.
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Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
THREE MONKS
THREE MONKS Morning sunbeams danced on the ripples Sparkling on the majestic flow of Mother Ganga. Noisy crowds of pious pilgrims from all corners, Pestered by ash-smeared, bargaining priests, Rushed towards the sacred waters for a holy bath , In a hurry to wash off their numerous sins And save themselves from Yamadharma's* wrath. Three solemn-looking monks in saffron robes, Moved briskly past the motley crowds, Looking for a less noisy, cleaner spot. At a distance, they saw a colourful launch, Carrying pilgrims across the vast expanse, When, all of a sudden, the launch tumbled And scrambling pilgrims, in panic jumped Into the river flowing fast over hidden rocks. Seeing their desperate struggle, the surprised monks Took a hasty plunge and swam towards the sinking launch And pulled some of them towards the sandy shore, While one of the sturdy monks carried on his back, A woman clinging to the side, breathing hard And left her after she recovered composure. Resuming their walk along the river bank, Two of the monks appeared rather grim and cold. Breaking their solemn silence, the frowning monks Called their companion a big sinner For he had carried a young woman on his back. Unperturbed, the robust monk said with a smile, Although he had carried a drowning woman on his back, He had left her safely on the river bank While the scolding monks carried her still in their minds And they hardly knew what detachment meant ! Startled and rudely awakened, the two monks Prostrated before Vivekananda, the awe-inspiring saint! *********** M.G.Narasimha Murthy *Name of the God of Death in Indian mythology.
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36
FACE THE THREATS * Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi - Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy, Vivekananda found at the end A lonely path that seemed to blend. With his solemn, pensive mood. Longing for silence and solitude. As he walked along the narrow path Winding amidst lush green plants Towards a sprawling, lovely lake, A horde of monkeys, all red faced, Sprang on him from a nearby branch. Taken aback by their sudden attack, He ran very fast, never turning back, But the menacing beasts were at his heels And one of them pulled his saffron gown While the others growled and shrieked. Shocked to see this frightful scene, A holy man coming from the lake, Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake. Stand there, face the surly brutes." Regaining his composure and lost balance, Vivekananda stopped at once, Held his ground and raised his hand. Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled . Thus awakened, he soon realised - "When you are threatened by opponents, Face them with courage and confidence, Yet, without malice or vengeance. To win life's battles, have grit and strength, For, strength is life and fear, worse than death." **********. M.G.Narasimha Murthy Hyderabad, India
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
FACE THE THREATS
FACE THE THREATS *            Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi - Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy, Vivekananda found at the end A lonely path that seemed to blend. With his solemn, pensive mood. Longing for silence and solitude. As he walked along the narrow path Winding amidst lush green plants Towards a sprawling, lovely lake, A horde of monkeys, all red faced, Sprang on him from a nearby branch. Taken aback by their sudden attack, He ran very fast, never turning back, But the menacing beasts were at his heels And one of them pulled his saffron gown While the others growled and shrieked. Shocked to see this frightful scene, A holy man coming from the lake, Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake. Stand there, face the surly brutes." Regaining his composure and lost balance, Vivekananda stopped at once, Held his ground and raised his hand. Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled .         Thus awakened, he soon realised -          "When you are threatened by opponents,            Face them with courage and confidence,             Yet, without malice or vengeance.              To win life's battles, have grit and strength,               For, strength is life and fear, worse than death."                               **********.  M.G.Narasimha Murthy Hyderabad, India
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Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
FACE THE THREATS
JAMSHEDJI TATA Revered Sir, Truly a man with a long foresight great you were; The entire Parsi community is really proud of you, Sir . A great human n a patriotic son of Mother India, you were. After your meeting with Vivekananda, you knew how to serve Her. May your memory live on for centuries many, dear Sir. Happy Birthday Armin Dutia Motashaw
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Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
JAMSHEDJI TATA