Wednesday,
March
20, 2002, Chandigarh, India
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The bard at his poetic best Ludhiana, March 19 “I, the land of Punjab welcome you O, beautiful friends, I welcome you Whenever my soil has footprints of new loving visitor, It sprouts with joy. I, the Punjab, this is my name, although the five rivers who gave me this name are separated. But even the separated rivers offer the water of affection, to the love-sick and thirsty visitors. For numerous times, my tombs were razed to ground and my crops were trodden by the horses of countless alien races. I grow and stand up everytime to combat the assailants. The rishis wrote their verses on the leaves of my trees. My mind was the first listener of the Vedic hymns. Sheik Farid, Shah Hussain, Bahoo, Varis and Bulla, they were the trees grown in the countryard of Islam. But their cool shadow and fragrance crossed the walls and reached the houses of Hindus and Sikhs also. Nanak, the singing prophet, asked Mardana “Please harp on the strings of Rabab, so that I can sing the song of Rab (God)”. The researchers flourish. The haughty, who discuss non-issues perish. Nanak, said, while living do say something, but also listen to others. I ask my leafy trees to grow taller, so that the neighbours do not face the scorching sun’. I, the land of Punjab welcome you O, beautiful friends, I welcome you”. |
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