Everything is but on supposition and presumption,
Nothing as evidential record,
Who built it and when,
How was it,
History but silent about
And so the people,
India but of proverbial sayings and fatalistic things,
Everything but left to fate and destiny,
Illogical Rites and rituals,
Oracles and superstitions,
Myths and mysteries.
How did they cut the hill to size,
The sandstone cliff
To cut to size and chisel a temple,
A Suryanarayana Temple,
How did the concept grow,
Who the architect,
Who the plan-giver,
How were the artisans and the architect?
No description available,
None knows it barring the photo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem