Of Sleepy Towns and Ghost Villages
Once the headquarters of the sarpanch
The flowing banyan
Stands lonely.
Once the hub of the economy
Of the village
The temple is forlorn.
Once the heart of the town
The cultural stage of the artist
Is just a relic.
Once booming artisans
Are now starved
Looking for greener pastures.
Once filled with green fields
The lands
Are now just plots.
Once a flourishing town
But now the people have moved away
And it looks depilated and lifeless.
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