Ode To Calcutta
Ode To Calcutta
Sweet old lady roams the streets
Tram bells strung on ropes ringing
Waltzing along parallel tracks
At her own leisurely pace
Unmindful of shouts and criticism
Attitude of laissez-faire policy
Fiercely guards her women
Didi, boudi, mashi, to men
'Don't ever mess' with her,
Clearly flashes her message
On billboards across the city
She exudes warmth always
Hospitable to whosoever visits
And once on her lap have rested
Hard to leave without tinge of
Sadness that quietly creeps in
She has a softness unparalleled
She's out and out traditional
Yet amenable to modern ways
British India's first capital
Once the Empire's prized glory
She loves food and loves to feed
Her sweets none can resist
Spongy rosogollas floating
In sugary syrup, any number
One can comfortably tuck in
Anytime before or after meals
A treat every guest receives
Along with cha and samosas
And If you stay over for lunch
Fresh fish will feature on menu list.
She never flaunts her riches
Humility is her second name
Raised two Nobel laureates
And few who nearly missed it
And if you think her wheels
Of progress have been stilled
No..it's moving, moving unseen
She will rise and metamorphose
And claim her once lost glory
So if cynics say otherwise,
Listen, don't argue, not worth it!
Those who flew out of warm nest
Know and pine for her constantly