Dasvidania Tigr

Project midway, river to cross, machines to shift
Great bureaucracy, zero support, crisis at large
Incessant rains, mosquitoes and the forests
He thinks, he decides, and he acts
Like a general in the battlefield, he thunders
Worker, supervisor, chief engineer, at hilt
Within couple of hours, a bridge is built
That's the man, that's the leader, alias the Tiger

No greater burden can a man's shoulders carry
Than of his own child, onto his final journey
whose hands he had held and taught him to walk
drove twelve hours to see him never walk again
The years of labour, the medicines, and the pain
Suddenly everything was lost, raison d'être lost
Life gave it to him, but he went on undeterred
That's the man, that's the father, alias the Tiger

Transformer, Generator, powerhouse and dam
His project, his people, and their welfare
His life, his passion, his existence for years
Dates, time, meals and sleep, literally forgotten
He moved like a conqueror, like an emperor
From valve diameter to name of the last worker
He knew by precision, by name, and by heart
That was Passion, that was heart, alias the Tiger

Fear, he probably knew not,
Heart, he probably had too much
There was something large about him
Haven't seen anything ever since I've lived
Manufactured in 1928, he was the Royal Enfeild
Puri Make, Bingaarpur running in his veins
They don't make such engines any more
My Bada Piusa, The Tiger, who breathed his last

Dasvidanya Tigr...