When Lord Ram returned home from exile in the forest
He missed the forest very much as he entered the city
Seeing the crazed dance in his courtyard
On 6 December he must have wondered
How did so many crazed followers enter my home?
The pathways where Ram's footprints had once shone
Where thousands of stars of love once stretched out
Those same pathways now took a turn towards hate
What is their religion, what caste, who knows?
If it were not for the burning house, who could identify them?
You who entered my house with burning torches
Your sword, my friend, is vegetarian
Your stones were all flung at Babar
No doubt it's the fault of my head that, instead, it bleeds
Ram hadn't even washed his feet in the Sarju
When he saw there deep blood spots
Without washing his feet he got up from the Sarju shore
Ram turned away from his own doors, saying
I'm saddened by the air of my own capital city
On 6 December, I've been condemned to a second exile