Category Archives: Tagore

Dew drops

Life is no more than a dewdrop balancing on the end of a blade of grass.
-Lord Buddha

The wise man warns me that life is but a dewdrop on the lotus leaf.
Rabindranath Tagore
 

“Life is but a day:
A fragile dewdrop on its perilious way
From a tree’s summit”
-John Keats

“Man’s life is like a drop of dew on a leaf.”

-Socrates

“Yes, I know
Life is a dew drop.
And yet . . .and yet . . .”
-Japanese poet Kobiyashi Issa,

 

 

Dew drops.
Glittering diamonds atop an emerald leaf,
An amber petal, 
Or a web of silver threads.
Pleasing the eye in one moment,
Gone in the next.
Such is our life,
Says many a philosopher.
What will you spend your dew drop for?
More peace on earth,
Or more hatred?
The choice, my friend,
Is finally yours…

 

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Lessons from Tagore


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabindranath_Tagore
I received a copy of the “Gitanjali” by Rabindranath Tagore at a school prize giving. Little did I know that one day I would quote from it on a blog for reconciliation; Tagore’s Nobel Prize acceptance speech contains an important message which I felt that I should definitely share here. Even though he has written it with Indians of 1913 in his mind, Sri Lankans of 2013 can benefit from it too. Once again it confirms my view that a writer writes for all times and for all people.
Let me warn you in advance, these words come from a great personality. Tagore was a Bengali poet, short-story writer, song composer, novelist, playwright, essayist, and painter. He became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913 for his work “Gitanjali” (meaning “song offerings”). His compositions were chosen by two nations as national anthems: India‘s “Jana Gana Mana” and Bangladesh‘s “Amar Shonar Bangla”.
“I do not think that it is the spirit of India to reject anything, reject any race, reject any culture. The spirit of India has always proclaimed the ideal of unity. This ideal of unity never rejects anything, any race, or any culture. It comprehends all, and it has been the highest aim of our spiritual exertion to be able to penetrate all things with one soul, to comprehend all things as they are, and not to keep out anything in the whole universe- to comprehend all things with sympathy and love. This is the spirit of India. Now, when in the present time of political unrest the children of the same great India cry for rejection of the West I feel hurt. I feel that it is a lesson which they have received from the West. Such is not our mission. India is there to unite all human races. Because of that reason in India we have not been given the unity of races. Our problem is the race problem which is the problem of all Humanity. We have Dravidians, we have Mohammedans, we have Hindus and all different sects and communities of men in India. Therefore, no superficial bond of political unity can appeal to us, can satisfy us, can ever be real to us.
We must go deeper down. We must discover the most profound unity, the spiritual unity between the different races. We must go deeper down to the spirit of man and find out the great bond of unity, which is to be found in all human races. And for that we are well equipped. We have inherited the immortal woks of our ancestors, those great writers who proclaimed the religion of unity and sympathy, in say: He who sees all beings as himself, who realizes all beings as himself, knows Truth. That has once again to be realized, not only by the children of the East but also by the children of the West. They also have to be reminded of these great immortal truths.
Man is not to fight with other human races, other human individuals, but his work is to bring about reconciliation and peace and to restore the bonds of friendship and love. We are not like fighting beasts. It is the life of self which is predominating in our life, the self which is creating the seclusion, giving rise to sufferings, to jealousy and hatred, to political and commercial competition. All these illusions will vanish, if we go down to the heart of the shrine, to the love and unity of all races.”

Ode to the sky VI

We started off this project with the following tagline:The sky, majestic in its varied hues and shades, with its millions of moods, is common for all of us… It doesn’t deserve to be tainted with disharmony”.Then,we never expected that we would have 6 posts of it…. However, much to our delight, the outcome was stunning beyond all expectations! :)We received photographs and artwork from around the world with colours that encompassed the whole visible spectrum and captions that brilliantly expressed feelings that are common to all of us; the strength of hope, gut-wrenching sadness, love for Mother Nature, the need for freedom, innocent joy,unrequited desire…


This particular post is special due to many reasons. We feel privileged to introduce the extremely skilled landscape photographer Marc Adamus((http://www.marcadamus.com),who was featured in the May 2011 edition of Reader’s Digest for “Best Natural Talent”. It is with his kind permission that his photographs are displayed. 
We are also thankful to Himala de Silva(http://www.flickr.com/photos/himaladesilva/), whose Flickr gallery had us oohing and ahhing at the spectacular shots of our own sun-kissed island, Sri Lanka. 

Ogilvie Mountains, Yukon Territory
The photograph is the property of Marc Adamus(http://www.marcadamus.com/) and has been used with his direct permission.

“Midnight Magic”
By Rochelle Silva
At one of the coldest regions of the earth where most living beings fear to tread, in the middle of the night when not a soul stirs, arises a spectacular phenomenon in the sky: aurora borealis. Similarly, peace will dawn even after the deadliest conflict, because inside each one of us is the power to forgive, forget and love each other again.


Alvord Playa, Oregon
The photograph is the property of Marc Adamus(http://www.marcadamus.com/) and has been used with his direct permission.

“Song XXXV, Gitanjali”
By Rabindranath Tagore
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
Yakkala, Sri Lanka
Photo credits:Vijini Mallawaarachchi
“Cloud play”
By Vijini Mallawaarachchi

Racing over the sky
Slowing down once
Then speeding up
Hovering above us

Twisting and weaving
Wriggling and twirling
Taking different figures
Even deceiving us

Floating with the wind
free and loose
Vanishing into thin air
as if spying on us

Shading the Sun
Enjoying the ride
Pranking about all
Having all the fun

 — 

Death Valley National Park, California
The photograph is the property of Marc Adamus(http://www.marcadamus.com/) and has been used with his direct permission.

“He fears what he sees”
By Shailendree Wickrama Adittiya

The sun,
Silent but
Ever present
Frowned that day
He peeked over the clouds
Decided that
He was better off
Unseeing
Than seeing
For what he looked
Down at scared him
He seemed pale
In comparison
To the world’s
Red anger
He seemed like a
Mere raindrop
Compared to the great
Storm
That mankind
Was creating,
Contributing to
Yet, cursing



Death Valley, California
The photograph is the property of Marc Adamus(http://www.marcadamus.com/) and has been used with his direct permission.

“Too human”
By Shailendree Wickrama Adittiya

We were not meant to
Reach up to the
Great black heavens
Why were not the
Mysteries of the earth
Enough?
Why seek the truth
The story behind
Why the sky is blue
Or where the gods
Rest?
Why not watch from below
At that great beauty?
Why not say a
Silent prayer of thanks
That the skies are so forgiving?
That they have forgotten
The dreadful wars
The hate, the deaths

And yet,
On days when the sky
Has no mercy
When the clouds fail
To shield the world from
The sun.
Or the clouds them selves,
Heavy with rain,
Cover the world
In darkness.
And on such days,
You look up at the skies
And ask, with a sad smile,
“You haven’t forgiven.
You haven’t forgotten.
You are too human,
Aren’t you?”


Arugam Bay, Sri Lanka
The photograph is the property of Himala de Silva (http://www.flickr.com/photos/himaladesilva/
 ) and has been used with his direct permission.

“My sky over the years”
By Rochelle Silva

I sang of the star which was,
“Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky”.
And of homes on the range,
“Where the skies are not cloudy all day”.

Wrote about “Uncle Sun” with his smiling face,
Who brought day and night without fail.
Beheld the joy of flying a kite,
On August days with smiles bright.
Shouted with joy at rainbows,
And thought that clouds formed shapes galore.

Over the years, my sky changed too,
And became my stratosphere,
And the place for the ozone layer,
Or Orion and the Big Dipper.

But no matter how old I grow,
I’ll always be thankful,
To the beautiful sky,
That is always there,
For all of us,
And wish with all my heart,
“Oh! May I always laugh and sing,
Beneath God’s clear blue sky”.


Boundary Range, BC/Alaska border
The photograph is the property of Marc Adamus(http://www.marcadamus.com/) and has been used with his direct permission.  

“So long for this moment”
By Marc Adamus

I figured these flowers probably waited a long time to enjoy a sunset like this. The growing season is short high in the Boundary range near the Alaska border, which I crossed and photographed over a month of solo trekking. The area is renowned for bad weather, but I enjoyed some amazing views like this one quite often nevertheless.




Arugam Bay, Sri Lanka
The photograph is the property of Himala de Silva (http://www.flickr.com/photos/himaladesilva/ ) and has been used with his direct permission.

“White”
By Shailendree Wickrama Adittiya
White is peace
It is surrender
It is the giving up of hope
White is the cloth
That wraps the corpse
Burning to ashes
White is the thira
That lights the oil lamp
An offering to the Buddha
White is her saree
She wears to the temple
Praying for safety
White are the clouds
That float against the blue
Of a sky that has seen no hate