Somewhere deep in the heart of hills,
A quaint little cottage , so silent still;
Standing the brunt and beatings of time,
Once I stood so elegantly , so fine .
I remember how memsaheb lit
The fireplace,where she sat and knit .
Many a parties and balls were thrown,
All in the ballroom which was my very own.
Then the tides of time took their toll,
Came the Partition , and heads did roll.
But then peace did come, and it came to last,
And so I stood quietly, remembering my past.
From a kid to a parent I have seen ,
Generations end and generations begin;
I have been faithful to my master’s kin,
Never letting any harm touch my inhabitant’s skin.
Plastered with lime and painted peach,
They oiled my doors whenever they screeched:
But now I am frail, weak and old,
And there is no soul who could be told,
Of the days I have seen, the days of gold,
Oh how I wish to not be deserted anymore!
Listen to my story oh young and bright!
Don’t leave me behind for the urban life;
In me you will find your Glorious past,
Come and hear my stories as long as I last!!!