Harmony, as I recall you, have many faces. Should I relate you to the co-existance of several religions in our great nation or should I blame you for many such intances when you left us to suffer in the air of distrust. Where do you really live? – In the pages of the hard-binded and glossay covered books? In the slow flowing dirty water of Yamuna or in the dirt of the non-cobbled paths of our villages? Have I not seen you in those children, the other day at school, who did not know the difference of their color, caste and size of land owned by their family? But you were hidden behind the doors, below the bars of the windows, and did not come to rescue when some of the houses of village were down-trodden and people got rid of the ‘untouchables’. Are you there, in painfully written, and mercilessly rejected pieces of poetry or do I find you in the voices thrown in the dark corner of store-room?