In the heart of Madhya Pradesh’s green embrace,
Where sal trees murmur and shadows chase,
The tiger walks with a royal grace,
Crowned by the sun in his striped robe’s lace.

Charger once ruled with fire in his eyes,
Sita beside him, under ancient skies;
Their paws wrote tales where the forest lies,
Their roars the anthem of wild replies.

B2 thundered through bamboo’s sway,
Keeping rivals and fear at bay;
While Bamera’s gaze at break of day
Lit Tala’s meadows in amber’s ray.

Jhurjhura’s love, fierce as the rain,
Nurtured her young through joy and pain;
Though fate was cruel on that forest lane,
Her spirit runs through the tiger’s vein.

O Bandhavgarh, your soil still hums,
With the beat of a thousand primal drums;
Each paw-print carved where the river comes,
A promise kept till the last breath drums.

Here, man may watch, but never own,
The forest is wild, the tiger its throne;
And long after we are dust and bone,
The roar of Bandhavgarh will be known.