The Sound of History

Every place has its own story.

Some may be gotten from heresy

But through persistency

It turns out to be the history.

There's music in the gentle breeze

That softly comes among the trees

Is widely heard over hills and plains

Listened by natives of varied strains

Melodious music of 'tankul'

Which can be heard only when the sunset rules

It seems to be the dramatic sound of guitar

Before the first blush of the star

From Strings of 'tankul'

It got the name to be called

Place’s name is yielded

Tankulan is contended.