Never
did I realize
How
to love a city
How
to embrace its craftsmen
When
I commuted in Bengaluru highways
Despite
earning its dollars
Devoid
of knowing its inroads
I was
alien to its turmoil’s
Tongue
tied to its plights and fights
Deep
inside my heart
A
hollow craving for its escapades
Lead
me but through its past
And
tilt my head for the shades
In
malls and Wifi cellars
Walking
past many men
And
their many women
And
their many more whispers
And
beyond their stillness
I
became averse to love and affection
I
have rights to believe
What
lies beneath the lights
Was
darkness and its hungry limbs
Yet
the rights were wrong enough
I was
mistaken
My
eyes were cloudy by nights
Clumsy
by sights, and sleepy meals
The
fragrance of those evening flowers
They
were the sweats of those toilers
The
silence of those markets
They
summed up the days of my comrades
Relapsing
to its outskirts
I
could mould a mindset
Daring
to ink beyond the normal
When
I spoke of silence
I
heard cries around
When
I was muted by wilderness
I
listened to the other-side of songs
Long
away from my breadwinning ways
I am
in a town of toilers
Belgaum
in North Karnataka
Land
of fresh air and fragrant tea
Covered
auto rickshaws but bold and open faces
Sweetness
from Sambar to Salads s
Now I
know, all cities are made of beliefs
Where
people are bridged by themselves
Else
they are made of questions
When
people are walled by themselvess
But
still I am wondering
What
makes them confident other than their hands!
Still
thinking over and over
I am
connected to souls of many cities
And
wanting for more of them
#Gokul
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