On the shores of Bharat

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On the shores of Bharat

by Rabindranath Tagore

Listen to a recording by Tim Bruce

On the shores of Bharat, where men of all races have come together,

awake, O my Mind! Standing here with outstretched arms,

I send my salutation to the God of Humanity,

and in great joy sing His praises.

Trees lost in the depths of meditation, fields adorned with rosary-like rivers,

I see the holy land every day on the shores of Bharat,

where men of all races have come together,

At whose invitation no one knows, came floating streams of men,

and merged into the sea of the Aryans, the non-Aryans,

the Dravidians, the Huns, the Pathans and the Mughals –

they have all merged here into one single body.

Today the West has opened its portals from where flow gifts.

Giving and receiving,

all will be welcome on the shores of Bharat

where men of all races have come together.

In mad exultation, singing songs of victory, have they arrived

crossing deserts and mountains; they all dwell within me and in my

blood echo their exotic melodies. O Rudravina, play on your music;

even those, whom in disdain we kept apart, will gather round you on

the shores of Bharat, where men of all races have come together.

Here one day in the hearts of men the solemn sound of OM

reverberated unceasingly. In the fire of tapas'ya all differences

were forgotten, and the many forged into one. At that sacrificial altar,

we all have to meet with bowed heads and unite on the shores of Bharat,

where men of all races have come together.

In that sacrificial fire, the blood-red flame of suffering is aglow.

O my Mind, bear this suffering and hear the call of the One.

Conquer all shame, fear, and let vanish all humiliations.

What enriched life will emerge at the end of the days of unbearable suffering!

The night ends, and the Great Mother is awake.

Come, O Aryan and non-Aryan, Hindu and Moslem, come, O English,

Christian, come, O Brahmin, purify your mind and link the hands of all.

Come, O downtrodden, and let vanish the yoke of your humiliation.

Tarry not, come you all to anoint the Mother,

the auspicious vessel is yet to be filled with the water sanctified by

the touch of all on the shores of Bharat,

where men of all races have come together.

(translated by Sri Aurobindo Bose)