Naanu Bengaluru, Nanna Bengaluru

By Apoorva Lakshmi Ragi

I am Bengaluru

Not a living city of ancient past

Like Madurai or Banaras

Nor an infiltrated changing flux of histories 

Like Delhi or Hyderabad

But I am an authentic me

What defines my authenticity u ask, 

I do not seek to define and limit myself

for who can see the authentic me 

as i change every full moon day, 

As I transcend the notion of generations everyday

But here I am

This is me

What does it mean to say 

this is me

As a city

The growing fabric 

of built and unbuilt 

Bursting through my seams? 

The Chaos of traffic

Of people and cars

Haphazard, zooming in me?

The Fleeting times 

I pay for, in pubs and dance floors

Seemingly nowhere to be? 

But here I am, 

This is me, 

A Migrant city, 

for the ever engaging growth

That I cannot seem to hold

Yet a settlers paradise 

for the weather I behold

What does it mean to say 

this is me

As a city

Do I Embody the small histories that im made to be

do I Cherish the ancient trees and parks you see no more in me

Or do I stand here forever in cuffs of

Poor governance and urban problems, 

Or build unbuild and rebuild 

The essence of me

to be free

Yet here I am

This is me

A vibrant city

a collective of the people's lives 

treasured in lived human experience

yet a prisoner of unsustainability

lost in the hell of development 

But is it me?

Is it for me to say

For here I am 

And this is me

Take it or leave it? 

By Apoorva Lakshmi Ragi