There lived a white dove,
Caring its chick with love,
Inside the hole of an arch,
O’er the gate of a church.
As the church needed repair,
The pair went out in despair,
To take shelter in a temple roof,
Inside a ventilator-hole rainproof.
The temple needed repairs later,
So, they again went thereafter
To settle under a mosque dome,
Making it their sweet home.
One day, they left in search
Another safe place to perch,
As the dome needed attention,
From its dilapidated condition.
Then the mother built a tiny nest,
O’er a treetop, the safe and best,
Far away from any dwelling,
Or, in any unsafe old building.
“Oh mother”, asked the puzzled chick,
This tree at last why did you pick?
“My child, we’re safer in a tree
Where we can live carefree.”
“Man destroyed trees and built,
His buildings and felt no guilt.
What was our forefathers’ place,
We can’t find now, even a trace.”
“In the Church I was a ‘Dove.’
I lived not as a ‘Christian-dove’
In the Temple also I was a ‘Dove’
I lived not as a ‘Hindu-dove’”
“In the Mosque too I was a ‘Dove’
I lived not as a ‘Muslim-dove’
But stranger are the ways of these ‘Men’,
Than what is told in the religion.”
“In the Church, they’re no ‘Men’,
But they’re the Christian-men.”
In the Temple, they’re no “Men, ”
But they’re the ‘Hindu-men.’”
“In the Mosque, they’re no ‘Men.’
But they’re the ‘Muslim-men.’
We remain the same ‘Dove’ forever,
When forced to move wherever.”
“But these men remain not so,
They change wherever they go.
Thus we follow one religion,
While the men many, not one.”