Tranquil edges of the auspicious currents
vanishing the spritual salutes
engaged into the idols of mind's intent
Now enduring the stings of men's loots.
O! who is so cheated as her
who nurtured the old hay rafters;
but now, inhaling the curse of progress
by her own sons, oh! so disgrace.
O! who is so suffered as her
who quenched the thirst of travellers;
but now, diffused with fake offerings
under hide of religion and culture.
©chirag
C