Poem: Through the Streets Of Mohenjo-Daro

Indus Valley House

From the lower town my home, my home,

With a flock of goat I set out

The streets of Mohenjo-Daro to roam,

To the goats I shout

The water of Indus gushes

As the plants on its banks it touches.

Indus Valley Street

Mohenjo-Daro, the city beside Indus bed,

I walk through your streets with so much more ahead.

The sun begins to rise as I approach the citadel,

The rich reside here,much richer than you can tell,

By watching women, lapis lazuli who adorn,

Not to simple brick houses but to the acropolis they were born.

Great Bath

Mohenjo-Daro, the city beside the Indus bed,

I walk through your streets with much more ahead.

The little goat kids run astray,

With my wooden stick

I guide them away,

From the great bath, 

with the floor made of brunt

Changing rooms, two flight of stairs and 

a large well beside it,

Toys

Oh! Praise is to those who painstakingly built it.

Mohenjo-Daro, the city besides the Indus’ bed,

I walk through your street much more ahead.

The spindle whorls spin together

Cotton and wool to produce.

Cotton as light as a feather

And wool that in winter is put to use.

Terracotta toys catch my eyes,

Seal

The ochre-coloured pots look so fine,

A toy for my little sister I shall buy,

The pots in my mother’s kitchen shall shine.

Mohenjo-Daro, the city besides the Indus’ bed,

I walk through your street much more ahead.

The sun is setting,

The city we have roamed.

The goats are fretting,

For they don’t want to go home.

I gather the flock

As darkness descends,

Together we walk

Through the streets that bends.

Mohenjo-Daro, the city besides the Indus’ bed,

I walk through your street much more ahead