I wish to make a special appeal to mothers to take up the sacred responsibility of keeping the lamp of sangita (music) burning bright in their homes and to instill a love for good music in their children from a tender age.
Quietly they moved down the calm and sacred river that had come down to earth so that its waters might flow over the ashes of those long dead, and that would continue to flow long after the human race had, through hatred and knowledge, burned itself out.
Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle …a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl. And the anticipation nurtures our dream.
When I was in the military they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one.
