I am the rhythm of the dhol and the whisper of the veena,
I am the smile in Holi’s color,
And the silence in your Diwali prayer.
And bow with folded hands at Ajmer Sharif.
I beat the drums in a tribal dance in Bastar,
And recite verses from the Vedas under banyan trees,
And fly kites across the sky on Makar Sankranti.
I serve langar in golden bowls at Amristar,
And offer ‘roze ka iftar’ to my brother next door.
I am the cheer of children in Shillong’s monsoon,
I sow rice in the fields of Tamil Nadu,
I herd yaks in Arunachal..
And fish in the deltas of Bengal.
I dance Garba all night in Ahmedabad’s courtyards.
And whisper lullabies on a houseboat in Dal Lake.
I chant on the ghats of Varansi,
And meditate in the caves of Ellora.
I wear the lungi, the lehenga,
the sherwani, the sari,
I am the tilak, the chandan,
the rudraksha and the rosary.
I write in Marathi,
think in Bengali,
sing in Kannada,
And dream in all the tongues of my land.
I am the fighter’s cry in the borders.
The farmer’s hope in Vidarbha.
I build software in Bengaluru,
And craft poetry in Kolkata cafes.
I race camels in Rajasthan’s sands.
I am not one.
I am many.
I am contradiction and harmony.
I am the one who prays, and the one who protests.
I am youth, I am age.
I am ancient, and I am tomorrow.
I walk through every temple gate a nd every church aisle,
Every daragah door and gurudwara corridor.
I am welcomed everywhere with ‘aadaab’,’pranam,’, ‘vanakkam’ and ‘namaste.’
I am the spirit of India.
