When I think of America,
I think first of Swami Vivekananda,
The once religious Ambassador of India,
Under his Banyan Tree, hands we shake, the friends of Indo-America.
When I thing of 'Machine and Money',
I think of the rich America,
And when I think of 'Milk and Honey',
I think of the ancient India.
When I think of 'War and Peace',
I know only the U.N.O. in America,
But when I think of my spiritual needs,
I kneel down and bow my head towards India.
When I think of 'Unity in Diversity',
I see, on the world map, the Indo-America,
How they run on the wheels of Democracy,
Black or white, never mind of the Lingua-Franca.
When I hear “Beep”, Beep” from the distant Moon and Mars,
I hear them from the Satellites of America,
But when I see on the silver sky countless stars,
I doubt, will they exceed the population of India?
When I dream, the round globe suddenly turns flat!
What a wonder! Now where am I from my mat?
Am I standing like a Colossus with my right leg in India,
And my left leg in America?
When I say, the distance increases the bondage,
What I mean is the Heart of America of this atomic age;
Countless are their tasks before to come closer,
To bind the Soul of India, be rich or poor.