In the indian era of traditions,

Pipal's tree has its own importance.

But I see it as Old Monk,

With vast experience and exposure.

A tower with proud, faced

Number of difficult exposure.

But remained stick to its roots,

To grow old and show it's glory.

I accept it's fellowship, to enlighten

My heart when stuck in past.

But I am a plant of future,

Born in chest of Pipal,

Grabbed tight it's branches,

To experience it's conquest. 

But in the end I grow flowers, 

Of my own type,

Of my own virtue,

Of my own ways of glory,

And Pipal has to be quiet,

Because I lead the way to future,

And I carry it's recognition,

To next generation.