Tea Garden of Assam

" The voluptuous hills and fields have disappeared, the bamboo protecting the tiny huts are past their prime and cold no longer held it's head high against the rape of the flood, the trollops of teetering strutting ink poured it's content over the face of Assam, and there lies the languid ministrations of deserted upturned holed boats of past glory, the green pasture that charmed a thousand brave warriors from Patkai hills is no longer inviolate, crouching on her austerities forced upon her. Snubbed by own people, she no longer woos the mind of a poet, all gone, all drowned, all broken!

"O' my mother Assam,
When will you recover?"
I burn here tears of blood devoid of strenth to make you stand on your knees!
Give me strength,
Give me power,
Give me Wisdom of Solomon,
That I might recover your soul and reinstal your glory once for all!" "