“Trucking hills and crossing rivers,
Pushed by devotional fervors
Hurried crowd from far and near
‘Har, Har, Mahadev’ rolled in ears.

Excited you were and wanted to rise,
Stand on legs and dance in trance
Moving your horns, tail and bell
To the divine sound of conch shell
But, you controlled your emotion
And decided to stay with no motion.
Awaiting a call from your Master,
But now there is a disaster.

Cold winds, like a cruel conqueror
Lashes it’s swords of terror
The shrine doors are shut, men have left
Why, Nandi, why do you wait?”

“Waiting is my duty and pride
When my Master stays inside
Whether it rains or whether it shines
My job to wait before His shrine”