Invictus

Out of the night that covers me 
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

- William Ernest Henley

The Indian

The Indian will walk the streets to see churches lit up for Christmas, eat at iftaars during Eid, dance in Ganapati processions, volunteer for langars in Gurdwaras and welcome anybody from Parsis, Jews,  atheists to hippies and wannabe yogis. This is the land of Bharatmata and King Bharata, with a name that represents all genders. The Indian will rise above all those petty differences to love and embrace all. Let no one tell you otherwise.