This is one of my favorite songs. When I cook, I like to read a book. In the same manner on 07-04-1987, when I was at Barhait (present Jharkhand), I was reading Gefforey T Bull’s ‘When the Iron Gates Yields’:
O Lord, I have not learnt to cry;
perhaps I lough too oft, for true conformity;
to thee and thy rough cross, or try;
to love thee without sorrowing—
talk but touch not, thus they heed not.
What heart, O Lord, moved through the garden?
I too have slept, but wake me Lord,
E’n though it be to love with tears
The last two lines touched my heart so deeply that I stopped cooking and within ten minutes wrote this song: Continue reading