A
NIGHT OF SWEET WORDS
The English poet John Keats (1795-1821), said
in one of his odes that heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
So on the
night of January 20 ,202I I hopefully waited at around 9.45 P.M. (IST) for the
speech to be delivered by Joseph Robinete Biden Jr who was going to be sworn in
as the 46th President of America.
True to my
expectation, he really uttered a number of sweet words. “Today we celebrate the triumph not of a
candidate, but of a cause; the cause of democracy, the people, the will of the
people has been heard.”
“On this hallowed ground just a few days ago,
violence sought to shake the Capitol’s very foundation. We come together as one
nation, under God, indivisible, to carry out the peaceful transfer of power, as
we have for more than two centuries.”
“We must end
this uncivil war that pits red against blue, rural versus urban, and conservative
versus liberal. “
“America has
been tested, and we have come out stronger. We will be engaged with the world
once again, not to face yesterday’s challenges, but today’s and tomorrow’s
challenges. “
“This is
America’s day. This is democracy’s day. A day of history and hope, of renewal
and resolve.”
“We have much
to do in this winter of peril, and significant possibilities, much to repair,
much to restore, much to heal, and much to gain.”
Delightfully
enough for India, Kamala Harris, whose grandfather still lives in Tamil Nadu, secured
a unique place in American history by taking oath as the first woman
Vice-President of America. She said in her oath: “ I kamala Devi Harris do
solemnly swear that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States
against all enemies foreign and domestic.”
The
words spoken by the new U.S. President were surely sweeter than those we had heard
just a few days ago from other speakers. However, one would like to see them being
translated into solid actions as soon as possible.
In the end ,
here is a poem which you may find relevant
to what has been said above:
Betwixt what
thou art, and what thou wouldst be, let
No “If” arise
on which to lay the blame.
Man makes a
mountain of that puny word,
But, like a
blade of grass before the scythe,
It falls and
withers when a human will,
Stirred by
creative force sweeps towards its aim.
Though wilt be
what thou couldst be. Circumstance
Is but the
toy of genius. When a soul
Burns with a
god-like purpose to achieve.
All obstacles
between it and its goal
Must vanish
as the dew before the sun.
“If” is the
motto of a dilettante
An idle
dreamer; ‘tis the poor excuse
Of
mediocrity. The truly great
Know not the
word, or know it but to scorn,
Else had Joan
of Arc a peasant died,
Uncrowned by glory
and by men unsung.
*********
21st January 2021 G. R. Kanwal
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