There are places
Holding luminosity engulfed in obscurity.
Narrowed streets yelling of stillness.
The moon rays are pouring its all
In the unhabited corners of houses
That smell of abandoned glory.
The red bricks are silently whispering
Of a city vanishing in portions
Akin to the ruins of Harrapa,
an infinite memory that never ceases.
The pathway bears song that reminisce of ages of war and conflict.
The yellow cabs painting a canvas that even artists can’t unscramble.
The water gently brushes on my feet
As I gaze with serene eyes,
The waves of crowd
Arising and dissolving in moments
We can’t weigh in seconds.
My city has its heart locked in history
And stirring towards evermore luster.
Kolkata,you are an era in itself.