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
worries around
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
gold,
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
lot,
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.