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The land of labour,
where hopes never end,
for saints, it is harbour
and histrionic for a friend.
With open blue sky,
and land full of trees,
where falcons fly
gushing through the breeze.
With city of temples,
and city of locks,
with city of bangles
and city of lords.
With rivers full of diyas
and houses lit with lamps,
lush field of crops
and adventure of muddy tramps.
The chirping of birds
and grazing of herds.
It's beauty so immense,
im short of words.
With mountains on one end
and ocean on the other,
it's out of love
we call it our mother.
Come home my friend,
come to my land.
'Incredible India'
is where I stand.
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