Teesta Review:
A Journal of Poetry, Volume 2, Number 1. May 2019. ISSN: 2581-7094
My
Madras
The summer in Madras
sizzles and dances
On her toes like a
ballerina,
The petrichor is but
a fleeting dream
Realised rarely.
The strolling Sun
slays without dismay
The city waits with
unabashed impatience for
The fall of the Lord
of the Day!
Evening descends.
As the gentle breeze
from the Bengal Bay,
Flows into the air,
City folks spread
themselves
On the sands of the
Marina and the Eliot.
Remnants remind us
of Madrasapattinam,
Here, The Cyclonic
Monk received both warmth and care,
The land of the
temples, mosques and churches.
Best schools,
colleges, hospitals jostle for space,
The rich, the poor and
middle class,
All suffer,
Yet celebrate...
Breakfast is
incomplete without the white
Fluffy idli and hot
coffee,
Here, coffee is
measured in yards,
Like the yards of
the traditional sarees of Kanchi.
There are patriotic
folks in this city,
Ones like our Air
Commodore Abhi,
Who took his flight
from mortality to immortality!
Vehicles honk and
ponk
City and people grow
bigger
Trees are fewer,
Still, the city
remains a showstopper.
The music festival
of Margazhi,
The enchanting
voices of Subbulakshmi and Vasantakumari,
Merge in union,
With holy chants and
muezzin calls.
God bless the people of Madras,
This city of awesome
energy,
Where all live in
happiness and harmony!