What a bliss to sit in Madhavi Mandiram,
in memory of a beloved and revered mother,
immortalized by an illustrious and immortal son,
illuminated by his illustrious disciple and daughter!
As it rains outside heavily cooling fast the atmosphere,
trees around aplenty dance in joy dispelling heat,
dancing with the monsoon wind with immense joy,
shedding their older leaves like the falling flowers,
from the heads of cosmic dancers,
at the peak of their cosmic dance performance.
Oh! My dear Mama, most revered Guru,
are you provoking me from there up in heaven,
to go out, get wet in rain with dancing and bathing trees,
and enjoying the matchless beauty of mother nature.
Oh! Gurudev Tagore, you are also hiding behind,
watching with joy the bathing naked trees,
beneath the Divine provided larger shower,
prompting me to express my feelings through words,
if not go and dance with the bathing naked trees.
What a wonder of the mother nature!
The rain, wind, thunder and lightning,
with a soothening sound and fragrance of rain soaked earth,
prompting me to sing a song, which I have not learned, from you.
Oh! Bapu my dearest Mahatma and revered Guru,
are you also there up watching the cosmic dance,
the rain dance of trees and plants,
in the accompaniments of wind, thunder and lightning?
Come down Bapu, as we miss you too much,
stay here as you stayed here before;
We need your help to preserve this God’s own country,
where trees are getting fast replaced by skyscrapers,
paddy fields are fast becoming townships sans any life,
rivers and rivulets are fast becoming sewage canals,
backwaters are looking crude oil leaks,
depriving your children their basic needs,
by the greed of a few who love depleting nature.
We need you Bapu and your true disciple GR Mama,
as we love this country to be seen as a paradise and not paralytic,
making it safe and loving for future generations after generations,
to be proud of their own mother earth and its matchless beauty.
We need peace in India and world over,
and not wars of all kinds including cold wars,
with even the God getting imprisoned,
without leaving Him with every one of us,
and confining him inside the walls of bricks and mortars.
We children want to play the spinning wheel,
get revived its past glory without caging as an ornamental piece;
we love to witness the spinning wheel providing shruti,
for the music and dance of trees for all seasons of the year.
Come again dearest Bapu and Mama,
as we cannot live without you
and perennial source of knowledge for all times.