The streets still carry all the marks of revelry...
The city, my love, still bears on her body the bamboo structures
Which hogged all the limelight even a few days back!
The ball-chain lights still hang from someone's ceiling...
The paper cups of ice-cream and coffee are lying strewn unattended yet by the corporation cleaners...
And those structures which got so many clicks with flashbulbs blinding
Are now standing erect like some ugly puzzles made of bamboo and tarpaulin and jute mats...
Where all the people gone?
All those people who thronged for the last three or four days-
Making roads choc-a-block...
Where all those cars gone?
Those cars which a few days back stood bumper-to-bumper-
Like immobile serpent on the streets?
O!
How I miss those days of my city dear decked up for the occassion!
O! How I miss her in her festive best!
O!
How I miss her sweet charms with new paints on
Of lipgloss and mascara...
And high heels, stilletos...
And ramp walks...
And rock songs emanating from cars whizzing past through the Redroad...
The city, my love,
Post the revelry looks so tired
So weary...sans the gloss...
Like that beauty of the lore, without her glass shoes...
The city, my love, still bears on her body the bamboo structures
Which hogged all the limelight even a few days back!
The ball-chain lights still hang from someone's ceiling...
The paper cups of ice-cream and coffee are lying strewn unattended yet by the corporation cleaners...
And those structures which got so many clicks with flashbulbs blinding
Are now standing erect like some ugly puzzles made of bamboo and tarpaulin and jute mats...
Where all the people gone?
All those people who thronged for the last three or four days-
Making roads choc-a-block...
Where all those cars gone?
Those cars which a few days back stood bumper-to-bumper-
Like immobile serpent on the streets?
O!
How I miss those days of my city dear decked up for the occassion!
O! How I miss her in her festive best!
O!
How I miss her sweet charms with new paints on
Of lipgloss and mascara...
And high heels, stilletos...
And ramp walks...
And rock songs emanating from cars whizzing past through the Redroad...
The city, my love,
Post the revelry looks so tired
So weary...sans the gloss...
Like that beauty of the lore, without her glass shoes...
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