They say it there is nothing as memorable in India
Barring poverty, underdevelopment, hunger and illiteracy,
Fatatlism, superstition, inaction and blind faith
But the centuries old rock-built, stone-hewn-and-chiselled temples
Contradict the theories, as for the temples built they
Cut and pierced through and chiselled
But their names we know them not still
And this the tragedy of our histriography!
The hills turned into the pieces of art and architecture
And the sculptors decorating the temples,
Where those architects, sculptors and temple-maker kings,
Why is history silent about them!
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