ROOTS-AN ODE

In the misty hills, I had my childhood days,

Observ’d the ever growing change in a thousand ways;

Seen the dawn and the dusk,

Amidst the evergreen pines and the musk;

The falls and the hills do rhythm aloud,

Hidden amidst the enchanting clouds;

With the serene lakes and the silent caves.

The Orchid city does strike a chord-

Every faithful man to his mistress,

Thus, echoes ‘its’ charm in just one accord.

No doubt! Divine mercy crafted thy beauty,

Making every creation reflect its own bounty;

Such tailored composure entwines an odd mystery,

With folklore and vivi culture ceasing souls’ poverty;

Far away from the maddening clang,

Thou do share its own strives and pangs;

As well as filth and deceit might taint thee,

But, thy blessing of grandeur and amity,

Cleanses thy spirit of every grime-

Thus, thy existence chastened and manifestations benign.

Ethereal is thy aura with stirring devotion,

Gifted with the richness and fruits of compassion;

All Lords’ seasons grace my abode,

To my roots-this is an ode.

POEM BY:     PRANJAL KR. BHATTACHARYA

                        B.Com (2^ND SEMESTER)

                        M.S. RAMAIAH DEGREE COLLEGE