Monologue of a Worthy Son - 2

The family and all fraternity At the bottom of heart, all Love carry In blood cells, every fear they bury I’ve lived in wishes of all fellowmen In whose wishes my cradle was nursed. From the blooms of wreath at the end I sense the laurel of the motherland The aroma of soil I’ve felt The pangs of plants I sense, In his nourishment of the plants, the planter, The cattle he drives which he rears To keep all safe and unharmed Catering the beehives all around In all pollens of the farm I feel the music of his Mingling with the hum of bees The ecstasy in each pore For a cool but sunny morn tomorrow. I owe my strength to the charm of fruits The blessings of milk, lassi and curd-rice In summer the tender coconut juice. I wish to be buried not but burnt In my hometown that gave me strength Its cool breeze and soothing stream. My ashes to be flown not in the Ganga But be smeared in all village farms So that I can get a chance To pay back some debt of motherland.