I Know You Are There

In the yellow fields of mustard that lie before my eyes
I see men working hard, their heads echoing with their children’s cries.
But when I see them smile with each sway of breeze, in the midst of their plights
I know you are there.

In those very fields, the ripe saplings dance to the song of the breeze
The shallow waters ripple and the naked children sneeze.
But when frenzied young girls run along, their dupattas fluttering with ease
I know you are there.

On a red hot day, when the fiery flames shoot down to the soil
I see a mazdoor with a sad face, a result of his sorrow and his toil.
And yet, when the tar-black clouds cool down his blood’s boil
I know you are there.

In a beautiful snow-laden valley, which is torn by war
Where a soldier is hated, where he is upon scorned.
But when he is dying, and I hear your name on his lips being born
I know you are there.

A small little girl, just three years old
In her small little hands she clutches you, it is you she holds.
And when I see the love for you that the little girl beholds
I know you are there.

You are there all around, in the skies and the grounds
In the flattering smiles, and in all the angry growls.
In the dirt of the streets, in the glitter of the cars
Yes, you are there, in the tinkling of a child’s candy jars.
In the hopes of the youth, yes you are there.
In the merriment of the Yule, yes you are there.
You are there in the faith in everything good.
You are there in the sweet music of the wooden flute.
Even in the tears of failure, yes you are there.
Even in those hearts filled with anguish and fears, yes you are there.
You are there in the excitement and hope of a new birth.
You are there in the smell of the first rain-soaked earth.
And whenever I open my heart and peer
My love, my passion, my India
I know you are there.

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