Beneath the spires and minarets’ grace,Echoes the tale of a contested space.A land where prayers in myriad tones,Once blended soft as river stones.Yet walls now rise, and voices strain,To claim the sacred, to stake the domain.The Mandir whispers of divine decree,The Masjid sighs its history.Amidst the clamour, laws were penned,To shield the past, and to future.The Places of Worship Act, its plea so clear,Let peace endure, let time revere.“No past will mar the present's glow,No wounds reopened, no seeds to sow.Let temples stand where they stood of yore,Let mosques keep faith in what they swore.”But politics stirs in the pot of belief,Spilling strife where there should be relief.The Act’s intent, a shield of care,Now twisted threads in the legal air.Each hearing calls for the court to decide,Whose faith will stand, whose will subside?Yet can justice thrive where the sacred divides,And the gavel strikes as sentiment guides?In the heart of this land, rich and vast,Must we always dwell on a fractured past?For mandir and masjid, brick and stone,Are vessels for the spirit to call its own.Let not misunderstanding fan the flame,Or cast this act in a shadow of blame.To honour the law is to honour us all,To keep the peace, to heed the call.So tread with care where sanctity lies,Let wisdom temper the legal cries.For beyond the walls, we must repair,A nation’s soul, its common prayer.
