The song could have been pale,
the words flat,
Eye S Bee Tee, a beautiful name
with even a beautifuller stat,
Of travelling Indians mostly,
poor, rich, destitute, and lonely.
Even hawkers will eventually head home,
yet Eye S Bee Tee will stay like foam.
The bus engine roars,
old highway isn't empty anymore,
real bad food in an expensive halt,
only slumber can get rid of this fault.
A snap and dawn it seems has come,
Great Himalayas are in view, some,
an obvious sense of awesome.
Dream is it or has the bus stop come?
It doesn't matter, a much needed break it is,
I step out of the bus and see,
Paharees families in bunches squatting,
waiting to migrate for greener living,
town litter piled neatly by the side,
like a choir they are singing,
we will pick odd jobs or work as labourers.
And I can't understand why leave the land to its elders.
Brother asks to stay for a few days,
and I hesitate,
I say next time maybe,
hills this time are really calling and I am desperate.
Can you hear the mountain mastiffs roaming freely there are Howling,
Can you hear them brother? They are calling!
We both turn our heads and look at the misty mountains,
Silence sings about blue birds, wolves and its fountains,
This small town we wander quick and soon it is noon,
in the squeezed shared cab there is enough room.
the words flat,
Eye S Bee Tee, a beautiful name
with even a beautifuller stat,
Of travelling Indians mostly,
poor, rich, destitute, and lonely.
Even hawkers will eventually head home,
yet Eye S Bee Tee will stay like foam.
The bus engine roars,
old highway isn't empty anymore,
real bad food in an expensive halt,
only slumber can get rid of this fault.
A snap and dawn it seems has come,
Great Himalayas are in view, some,
an obvious sense of awesome.
Dream is it or has the bus stop come?
It doesn't matter, a much needed break it is,
I step out of the bus and see,
Paharees families in bunches squatting,
waiting to migrate for greener living,
town litter piled neatly by the side,
like a choir they are singing,
we will pick odd jobs or work as labourers.
And I can't understand why leave the land to its elders.
Brother asks to stay for a few days,
and I hesitate,
I say next time maybe,
hills this time are really calling and I am desperate.
Can you hear the mountain mastiffs roaming freely there are Howling,
Can you hear them brother? They are calling!
We both turn our heads and look at the misty mountains,
Silence sings about blue birds, wolves and its fountains,
This small town we wander quick and soon it is noon,
in the squeezed shared cab there is enough room.
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