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Life Reflection

  Days march, weeks pass by, Toiling for fortunes, we seek, Recognition craves.   Memories awake, Questions of worth and purpose, Earthly time slips by.   Whose love did we hold? Who held us in tender grasp? Connections, do they count?   Days thin, end draws near, Present’s significance gleams, Beloved, joyous memories.   Transient

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Underground

Mahatma January 30, 1948 Gardens of Birla House, New Delhi I will soon reach my eightieth year as I write these reflections. The chill of the January breeze seems to whisper of change or closure. My heart has been heavy with the burden of my beloved nation’s suffering, its partition, and the blood that has

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