[Previous] The Brown and the Gold - October 1997 [Next ]

The silence of Africa:
What I left Woodstock
By Bala Subramanian
To the mighty Himalayas
I bring the scintillating peaks of the Drakensberg;
To the holy Ganges
I bring the River Congo;
To the acres of rice field and tender coconut
I bring the green veld and the lions as they roam;
To the thick jungles of Mussoorie
I bring the turquoise waves of Durban beach;
To Krishna's flute and dancing cobra
I bring the prancing springbok, fawn and gold;
To the call of the kowl and the morning mynah
I bring the piercing shriek of the hawdidaw;
To the low and mystical Indian ragas
I bring the beat of Africa's drum;
To the ringing bells of the morning temple
I bring the solemn prayers uttered in the African night;
To the dying people of splintering earthquakes
I bring the cries of war-torn Africa;
To the hurt and solitary Mullinghar orphan
I bring the Rwandan child whimpering--"Maman";
To the jingling Indian woman scooping water in her pot
I bring the copper woman with a baby on her back;
To the brilliance of Himalayan sunshine
I bring a piece of darkness.

I left
The silence of Africa in the ragas of another land.

by Bala Subramanian ('97-India)
for "My Woodstock"

Next
Back to The Brown and the Gold - 1997
Previous