In the tea gardens the spirits roam,
A legend whispers, of Marang Buru's home.
The great one, the first, the all-knowing hand,
Who shaped the world, across the sand.
From the gusty winds and starlit night,
Marang Buru spoke, with radiant light.
Mountains rose, at his command,
Rivers flowed, across the land.
Trees whistling, in a graceful dress,
Animals roamed, with nature's bless.
Sun and moon, he set their course,
Guiding day and night, a constant force.
But darkness lurked, in shadows deep,
Malevolent spirits, secrets to keep.
Marang Buru fought, with thunder's roar,
Banishing evil and violent snore.
Then from the earth, a precious spark,
He breathed life's essence, left its mark.
The first Santhal, with hopeful eyes,
A bond with nature under blue skies.
Marang Buru watches with watchful eyes,
Guiding their steps keeping fear aside
In festivals big the offerings made,
The Santhals honor, the light that pervaded.
So echoes the legend, from hearts devout,
Marang Buru's presence, filling them throughout.
The Santhali moves and 'Sereng' they sung,
The hardworking clan to which they belong.
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