Dusty roads, shabby clothes,
people lived with open doors.
Greeting everyone around,
with kids playing on the ground.
Remember, how you used to
run to the store,
With a coin in hand, in the days of yore.
Sitting on his lap, holding your old man's hand,
You heard the stories of the land.
With joys abound, without
It is never cold where people have hearts of gold.
Back in school, where people talked of climbing high.
And your ambitions rose sky high.
One day you woke up,
With your bags all packed up.
Went to bus stop of your town,
left for the big glittering town.
Now living in a big town
You won't care for a king or a clown.
Worked hard for that crown,
But you wear it with a frown.
With streets glittering like
where souls are bought and sold.
Now this is your home town,
But not your own town.
Now your are twenty six, and
your money speaks,
In these greedy streets, where cruelty reeks
In this big bestial town.
Your home town.
Steel horses in the parking
And money comes in a lot.
Down in the alley, a shot gun blasts,
where care and kindness don't last.
Take a good look around,
there are no birds singing around.
Without a soul, You're living in a gaol,
In this glittering callous town, Your home town.
I wrote this while thinking of my Grandpa's place in India.