Now that Navaratri is near,
Some questions seems very confused.
The originality is lost-dear
Some-where in the modern fusion.

It’s no more an original force,
No more garbas in the streets,
Now they sing, till they are hoarse,
To the drums of modern beat.

It’s now remix and sanedo,
Modern band to add to it,
Flood-lit stage and perfumes flow
An Hi-teck dance now every bit.

Colourful dresses and hair do,
Expensive make up every day,
Passes that cut into your purse
While elders can just sit and pray.

Somewhere in the extravagance
The poor deity is lost.
The one for whom we dance and sing
Is just a ritual not the host.

They all talk of tradition
Yet look how far we have come.
And who’s to blame for this one
May we‘re all responsible.