When you were young
You gave us the rice during the famine
When you grew up
You grew as tall as the mountain itself
Though you stayed at the bottom

You became a flute to Lord Krishna
Became a cradle to the new born
You became a thing of racing toy
for the playful children

You became the storage can
for the food grains
During the off season
you became a storage room

You became a celebration
as the pillar of the wedding pendal
You became the excitement
During the dance of the Nandi-Kolu

You became the roof for the entire village
You became a blowing tube for the stove
When my grandparents became weak
you became the supporting stick

You became a paddle for the boatman
You became a beautiful basket in the hands of the artisan

When man wanted to climb up
You became a ladder

When man was but a dead body
You became the the platform to carry him to heaven