Kolkata

A familiar turning round the corner,
The same old road, the same old air.
The shops still remain the same,
And memories even bring faces bare.

The age old bookshop on the street,
The same old shop selling the unforgettable tea.
The smell of nicotine even smells fair,
Of the one selling poochkas by the square.

The old wry smile of the old guy on chair,
Who used to call by for an evening care.
strange though the relationship was,
Being such strong, none knew what our names was....

The old coffee place on the same old seat,
Laughing, smiling lost in the beat.
Of friends around with the same old face,
And even smiling, yet none before present.

The same old addiction to this never ending drug,
Family of strangers, and relatives as friends,
tea served in mudden cups,
food eaten on fresh leaves green,
a smile, a tear smeared and shared,
faces yet varied, yet heart the same,
And howsoever they try the warmth remains,
And truly the spirit raises a toast,
Filling you with happiness most.
Welcome to the same old city,
the city of joy the city of preety.