ON MOTHER AND MOTHERLAND

At the very sight of his motherland, his physical frame quivers with a thrill of joy which is inexplicably boundless. When he touches the soil, his eyes gleam, lips smile, face brightens, heart swells and the intellect leaps up to make the patriotic legs dance, while his lungs expand to the maximum capacity to he filled with the native air. A talk with his countrymen throws him into ecstatic joy that entrance him long. His heart feels found at festival in their company, as his noble sentiments emerge and surge forward to converge into that of theirs. For such a patriot, the whole country rises to accord reception. The teeming millions raise their tones and sing 'welcome' in chorus. Such is the honour and esteem that one commands, if he is a patriot in the real sense of the term. Let him he poor or low, old or weak, or none in particular, his love for his country, and concern for its people are more important than his status.

If any one continues Scott, does not own-such emotions, claim similar attitude, or crave for returning home, he is not a patriot. lie is a traitor, a wretch, a sinner of the meanest type, despite his boundless wealth that could buy even heaven for him; or, he may be the recipient of the highest awards of the world organisation, indicating his distinction in a field or two that bends the emperor of emperors in submission. Such honors credit him not. His own country men brand him a cut - throat-and the country treats him as the vilest wretch. If he is sensitive, he feels the 'contempt' engulfing, infamy, strangling and infidelity pounding him to dust. No one sings in praise of him, nor is he invited for any auspicious function at any place, or on any occasion. He is destitute of honour, position and power, despite his unrivalled worth in any sphere of human activity. He lives, dying gradually. More than his natural death, the living death cudgels him all-round and saps his energy. lie dies unwept, un-honored, unsung and un-tombed to tell the world, where he lies.

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