'the city has its beauty too
perhaps...
a beauty in her hurriedness...'
he thought
while on return
from the city big one...
in every possible way
so different...
from the dreams of country
with which he started the day...
'the city's beauty is so transient...
that it always slips by...
its beauty lies in its temporary files...
useful but never holding much memory space...'
he thought
looking at the rows of horse drawn carriages
by the orangey maidan
draped by artificial miniature suns
as posted on long posts...
and finding someone
biting nails of her fingers...
anxious...waiting...personified...
'and those wide colorful billboards
selling materials...
like a destination built on pennies...
like a slideshow filled with photoshop dummies...
they form beauteous shapes too...
only so
written in unnecessary
business...
undecipherable hurry...
but then...
interestingly...
the city got her own trees too...
those trees greenish...full of dust and soot
still braving all heat and chaos...
still bringing in some shades...
under which people could be found on rest...
afterall it had been still a summer...
after all rains had taken a day off or two...'
he thought
while returning from the big city
that slowness always pitied...
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