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?

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