The city I belong to

Don't know which city I belong to,

Ten cities I have lived in. Each is a part of me.

Each is home to my memories

But I don't know which city I belong to.

I won't be able to tell you about the city's

That street, that road, this food. 

But I can tell you about people.

I can tell you that if you have a problem,

Will someone come to help,

Or will they mind their own business,

Because that's what they have been told.

I will be your guide in all these situations,

But I don't know which city I belong to. 

My house is home both to dosa and rajma chawal. 

Punjab's saag and Andhra's mango pickle,

play hide and seek here,

Home is a kaleidoscope of many colours.

But like a kaleidoscope, I can't pick one colour

Because I don't know which city I belong to.

We live in times where identities are manufactured,

Fabricated in the factories of lies.

Anyone wearing such an identity belittles others.

But I have seen people tearing apart such lies

And destroy stereotypes that stand tall.

I know that identities are fluid,

And yet something binds us all,

Because I don't know which city I belong to.