Kanya Kumari--Monsoon of 2009
At the tip of India
I watched the sun going down,
Enveloped by the giant frothy waves.
Only to rise in its full glory,
Once again, from the depths of the sea.
At the tip of India
The bronze statue stands tall.
Goading the vast populace
To follow in his footsteps.
Arise, Awake!!
At the tip of India
I saw the “Shiv-ling”
Probably placed by some religious fanatic
To firmly establish the land’s Hindu credentials.
At the tip of India
Why do people take a holy dip?
Is it just the feeling of helplessness
Of having reached land’s end?
Or is it in acknowledgement?
The might of the ocean, the unknown,
Compels people to bow in deference?
At the tip of India
I saw the ocean rushing in to engulf all.
Only to be stopped in the tracks
By a few pieces of jutting rock.
In defiance to the mighty ocean,
they bear the onslaught
and let the waves roll in gently
at the feet of our great country.
I watched the sun going down,
Enveloped by the giant frothy waves.
Only to rise in its full glory,
Once again, from the depths of the sea.
At the tip of India
The bronze statue stands tall.
Goading the vast populace
To follow in his footsteps.
Arise, Awake!!
At the tip of India
I saw the “Shiv-ling”
Probably placed by some religious fanatic
To firmly establish the land’s Hindu credentials.
At the tip of India
Why do people take a holy dip?
Is it just the feeling of helplessness
Of having reached land’s end?
Or is it in acknowledgement?
The might of the ocean, the unknown,
Compels people to bow in deference?
At the tip of India
I saw the ocean rushing in to engulf all.
Only to be stopped in the tracks
By a few pieces of jutting rock.
In defiance to the mighty ocean,
they bear the onslaught
and let the waves roll in gently
at the feet of our great country.
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