The Cry Of Babri Masjid Poem by Mohammad Muzzammil

The wind has sound but slow,
Carries dust blowing around,
I lay keeping my head on pillow,
Far from my home on a mound,
Bewildered I badly, opening eyes what is found.

The particles've taken a form, a figure,
Hair untied and tears in the eyes,
Knowing its identity I'm eager,
Before opening my mouth, she cries,
'I'm the dust of Babari Masjid, O memorize! '

'The mosque that would be grand,
In the region of Ayodhiya, glorified,
Some cruel and lunatic people demolished it and,
The mosque-holy place was impurified,
So, I'm unchaste and miserable, once dignified.

'Hiding my tears, I begin to speak,
'How can we get thy glory back again? '
'Lack of faith has made you too weak,
Because of the differences, your efforts go in vain,
When you have unity and single purpose, you shall it regain.'