This City Is A Riot



This city is a riot,

a riot of tints and

tones,

it is full of monsters

and men,

of the chivalrous and the

boorish,

of women with wings clipped

to their backs,

the rich and the poor,

the kind and the cruel,

the young and the old

stand tall at the sunrise and

crumble after sunset,

never are the streets sombre,

look around,

you’re flanked by glares and

laughter,

cups of tea are passed around

the tables

while an outlier sips on his

coffee,

saunter in wonder,

the cadence of different prayers

envelops you as

several religions co-exist with

grace,

let me tell you how

biryani is one of them,

there’s constant rush and

fragments of calm,

tell me what’s this city if

not a

beautiful riot?

We Cannot Grab A Coffee Now, So Hit Me Up