A temple, a church, a mosque
All within arm's sway;
I thanked my lucky stars to god
Of what secularism my country has got.
There sat in line young boys and girls
With myriad flowers In baskets left,
I kept my word to those children and availed
Ten rupees worth of flowers for myself to pray.
Quite absent-mindedly after paying my due
I took one petal and crushed it in my hand,
And one young girl with a twinkle in her eye
Said: "They smell sweetest when crushed, try again."
But if we had not built places to worship
And carried the prayers all in our heart
That petal on that flower wouldn't be nipped
From its bud, and we'd pray to the flower.
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