Between the Ganga and the Ghaghara’s bend,

where Rapti and Gandak in silence descend.

lies a land of flood and fertile grain,

of bird-flight paths and monsoon rain.

Oxbow lakes that mirror the sky,

chaurs where wintering birds still fly.

Saras Cranes on a fleeting stay,

folk songs mark their seasonal way.

In fields of wheat, in mustard bloom,

in jaggery fires that chase the gloom.

in fishing nets cast at dawn’s first light,

the rhythm of place holds memory tight.

Folk songs swell as the floods return,

Bhojpuri voices in lanterns burn.

Chhath on the ghats with prayer and fire,

ritual, resilience, hope, and desire.

Memory lingers in river and plain,

in orchards faded, in migration’s chain.

Purvanchal calls, if we lend an ear,

care for the land, its future is clear.

Purvanchal’s strength is never hidden,

it flows through rivers, by soil unbidden.

It soars with birds, in songs retold,

in folklore, memory, and voices bold.

A bioregion rich, where abundance flows,

where nature and culture weave as it grows.

To care for Purvanchal is wisdom’s call:

let rivers sing, let soil nurture all,

let people thrive, and hope for all.