.
In the land of the rising sun, where the Ganges flows,
A mystic dance unfolds, in colors and hues.
Pierre Loti, in his work, “Aziyadé,”
Describes the enchanting beauty of India’s spree.
Silhouettes of sages, in deep meditation,
Their eyes closed, hearts in a state of elevation.
The scent of incense, the sound of a sitar,
In the hallowed halls of a temple, the soul stirs.
Cinema’s lens captures these moments divine,
A mystic journey, a spiritual climb.
The Taj Mahal, the Golden Temple,
Each frame a testament to India’s spiritual helm.
In the heart of the Himalayas,
Where the sun kisses the snowy mountains,
A mystic whisper, a sacred chant,
Echoes through the valleys, a spiritual haunt.
In the land of the mystic, where the sacred and profane,
Coexist in a delicate, intricate ballet,
The soul finds solace, in the dance of the divine,
In the mystic land of India, where the sacred and profane intertwine.
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