When the birds sing upon the pipal tree
pleading all the far scattered just free

Let the sun herald with the great call
bringing the prisoner soul abode to fall
Oh, almighty the coughs and cataract are persistent
The youthful hand and vigorous mind are away insistent

How can this be fair?
Why is ‘I’ for ‘we’ rare?

The uncultivated, the unplanned and the unglorified
The soil, the city and the history
Who says we have nothing?
Who says we are deprived of?

We say we are scattered
We say we are divided
we say we are doubtful
All in all we the one but in many