The temple and the mosque,
seem to have boundaries made of rock.
Whom should I blame?
Language, past, or political game?
The love turned to hatred.
Those boundaries have marks still red,
Marks of bloodshed,
Life’s lost during wars so dread.
The Mecca is same as Rama,
Both following the path of Karma.
Still we call them Islam and Hindu,
The love between both was once so true.
The brotherhood is all faded,
Showing the sparks of scorn.
We pray for the betterment of relations
Afterall HINDU & MUSLIM are a divine creation.