Mother India,
with a bindi* on her forehead
which no rain or floods can erase,
is in a fast-filling well
with her little son,
trapped in unrelenting rain.
She is pregnant and in labor.
Skies! Send down a savior.
Don’t show your cruel might
on a poor woman in survival fight
Her man, chased by enemies,
has to return.
Return he will
she knows for sure
even if pierced by arrows or spears
or chased by panting hungry panthers.
And finally he does return,
badly mauled, to pull her and their son
together with the newborn
out of the rising well.
Yet, they have a catastrophe impending.
Spaniards are at their shores to colonize,
in shiploads; heavily armed;
they decide to seek refuge
in the jungles of their ancient nascence
hoping for a new beginning,
instead of falling at the feet of those invading.
May enemies as ruthless as the Spaniards come
in hordes, in different shapes,
both from inside and outside.
Mother India survives
in her sacred jungles of yore
with her children of abundant valor
where a Ganges flows along
singing a universal love song
Those of you who have
a requiem for her
written and ready in your hands beware,
shudder before you rise or enter.
She is destined to survive for ever
and flow unhindered with her Ganges of culture.
_______________
• A vermilion mark adorned by Indian women on their foreheads symbolic of their marital felicity.
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