The year is 2020.

The African buffaloes are injured and hopeless after having a disastrous hunting period in the Indian jungles and the English land last year. They have already defeated the English tigers once who have come into their territory. But now the tigers are roaring with tremendous vigor and have again injured the buffaloes.

The buffaloes are covered in mud and blood. But they are not broken, the eyes still breathing fire.

From the pit of mud there comes a voice...

In the fell clutch of circumstance

  I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of

  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Few more buffaloes join that voice..

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

  Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

  Finds and shall find me unafraid.

They all rise out of the mud and now singing in unison..

It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

  I am the captain of my soul!