Beneath the ancient banyan’s shade,
Where stories of old quietly reside,
Echoes of footsteps on cobblestone paths,
Whispering secrets of a timeless tide.

Colors of festivals paint the sky,
Melodies of flutes weave through the air,
Threads of tradition binding us tight,
In a dance of memories, a heritage rare.

Scrolls of wisdom, inked with care,
Passed down through hands of love and grace,
A tapestry woven with threads of gold,
Cultures entwined in an eternal embrace.

In the heart of every song and tale,
Lies the spirit of those who came before,
Holding the lantern of history high,
Guiding us through time’s ever-open door.