Lost in the infinite, loose dunes of sand
She is still said to be in affluent retreat
In the main artery of the throbbing land
Percipient of the subtle pangs in every beat
Where sages and saga -heroes went in pursuit
Of the impossible and beyond, making even the Deity
Descend on to the place of penance and circuit ;
And concede, bestow what is sought by piety
All this done, benefaction they took over
Instilling the spirit of Life in every lost run
Of those who bowed before the luminary power
For precepts and to commune with the Divine Zone
All is gone now with the Holy River
Lost in the arid stretch of grains dead;
Will she spring out yet again, ever..?
Her traces are not lost in the fossil bed….!
Someone like the Great Bhagirath will venture
To stream -flow the elixir from the hard deep
And revive the comatose, paralyzed culture;
Hope it would never be a Lethe of sleep..!
