The Ganga Sagar

The ramshackle buses from Bihar, U.P., M.P., Haryana and others Going to the Ganga Sagar islands, The place where King Bhagirath did the penance As for absolving, salvaging The hundreds of sons of Sagar, Daring the chill of the wind and winter, Braving it all the odds That come on the way. The old-old, aged-aged people from the adjacent or distant Going to the Sagar islands As for a dip in the sea, With some pious purpose, For a pious dip, But I understand it not their piety, The devotion and dedication With which they are going to. Have they come to get lost in huge uncontrollable crowds, Have they to be stranded, Have they to beg after being missing and wayless Or just for their blind faith, Maybe that there is some base of it, But to cover a long distance is no doubt a trouble, The chill of the winter, The mist and the fog lessening visibility And causing unwanted accidents, Away from home, Is it the reality? The ramshackle buses going to the Ganga Sagar As for a holy dip, I see them passing through, The old-old men Braving the chill, mist and fog, But I know it not how safe the journey will be, Will they be able to return home, As man of the ways when out of home And the modern hazards many now-a-days, In the past the wild animals used to, Is it not?