A love letter to Calcutta


Eons have passed as I sit by the window, gazing outside,
What can I say about the city that hasn’t been said before?
Do I talk about the sweltering heat or the swishing rain?
The rain swept streets or the swelling crowd?
My nostalgia or the ever-changing landscape I can’t quite relate to…
A star-lit evening on Park-street,
Or people splashing droplets that sparkle in the sunlight as they bathe by the road on a hot day…
What can I say that would ring true?
An idea untarnished by dirt, filth, sweat and basic stench of teeming life,
Or merely encompassing the ugliness and transcending into something beautiful,
An idea about the place, but not of it…
The mysterious magic of my city that never fades as the reality of it does…

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