‘Days Of Yore, My Bangalore'

By Stephen Deepak

I travel hind in sepia years, to a land I call was paradise,

In fragrant air and soothing warmth, a loving Mother embracing native, stranger and all.

Beauty filled her hearts with love, showering Mayflower and Marigold,

Goosebumps and Nostalgia fills, Days of Yore, My Bangalore

Rows of Bungalows, beauty and pride, rested a pensioner after life’s toil,

Days were simple, nights even humble, peace herself did pause at times.

Common life in simple things, like buy two coffee, defined our times,

Joyfully paced, we had time for all, at root our culture beckoning hearts.

Festive look wore our paths, rangolis colourful, artfully expressed,

Girls decked in jasmine hair, swayed in graceful innocence.

With sly glances, love note exchanged, romances were the movie kind,

In street corners or on temple rounds, one glimpse enough, love was all in the air.

Flying kites, Marble games, hide and seek, when power went mute,

Orchards with Guava, Berry and Mango, adventures on cycles gave sheer thrill.

In commune of harmony, lived people all kinds, none did wedge any poisonous think,

Haves and Have-nots, none felt so, everything shared, nobody would empty go.

I look today, I search for her, my city has been stripped, lost all she had,

Concretes of high rises, Corporates aplenty, all but all, people have become too small.

City is choking, crying her woes, we are all but helpless, apathy writ large,

From sepia to colour, a world of change, unparalleled is my city, Days of Yore, My Bangalore

By Stephen Deepak