Green hills crowned with hazy clouds under playful skies,
A great river that breathes life of many flavours bright,
Forests thick with striped lords and tusked giants,
And people with so many faces and colours to find.
A land where the Spring sings a melody of the Gods,
And the land undresses from its frosty gown to adorn,
A pretty dress of silk and gold, woven with stories old,
Of witches and demons, and many kings bold.
But the Summer does bring down fire and rain,
When the river swells fat with mermen and mermaids,
When wet boots rumble under the thunder God's name,
And tree lords duel men over juicy sugarcanes.
The Winter then makes the land quite lazy and fat,
When the bamboo is stuffed with new harvest ripe,
And fatter ducks squabble over bowls of gourd soup,
And many gossips are shared over fire and food.
Amidst the chaos, the people wear their masks,
A mask for everything, each of them do bear,
A mask of festivals red and white, a mask to mourn black,
A mask of gold to play Gods and kings, a mask to sit back.
And so Assam thrives, among monkeys and floods,
Where Bihu makes maidens to come out in the sun,
And ancient people complain of the many generations to come,
But these quarrels are what makes this place so fun.
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 3:57 PM UTC
Green hills crowned with hazy clouds under playful skies,
A great river that breathes life of many flavours bright,
Forests thick with striped lords and tusked giants,
And people with so many faces and colours to find.
A land where the Spring sings a melody of the Gods,
And the land undresses from its frosty gown to adorn,
A pretty dress of silk and gold, woven with stories old,
Of witches and demons, and many kings bold.
But the Summer does bring down fire and rain,
When the river swells fat with mermen and mermaids,
When wet boots rumble under the thunder God's name,
And tree lords duel men over juicy sugarcanes.
The Winter then makes the land quite lazy and fat,
When the bamboo is stuffed with new harvest ripe,
And fatter ducks squabble over bowls of gourd soup,
And many gossips are shared over fire and food.
Amidst the chaos, the people wear their masks,
A mask for everything, each of them do bear,
A mask of festivals red and white, a mask to mourn black,
A mask of gold to play Gods and kings, a mask to sit back.
And so Assam thrives, among monkeys and floods,
Where Bihu makes maidens to come out in the sun,
And ancient people complain of the many generations to come,
But these quarrels are what makes this place so fun.
