By Mansi Buddhadev
Staying at a place , I am too proud to live in
With the guilt of leaving my heart and soul in those lanes ,
Leading to the school ,
Opening tiffin boxes full of memories .
And then to my best friends house
To share those project works ,
Which then lead to the garden
And slide the swings with the ups and downs of life ,
They lead to the temple backstreet ,
Whose bells still ring in my ears,
Waking up me in the pre-dawn hours .
And then leads to that aunt’s house
On festive eves ,to get money
Graced like a bride in beautiful envelopes.
To that favorite Street food vendor ,
Whose golgappas melted
faster in my mouth than an ice — cream under the sun .
And that routine restaurant ,
Where family birthday parties were arranged .
And finally to the heart of the town ;
My home , reaching where seemed
Like solving those maze puzzles in magazines ,
As if there’s no further destination
dearer than this .
But after all those struggles ,
To get education and success in life ,
My body finds new homes out of the town ,
Though the soul lingers in the railway station ,
In search of a train , to travel back
To those lanes filled with the aroma
Of masala dosa and idli-sambhar .
Making me wonder , where these new lanes lead to ?
With everything exotic around me
The people , the things , the food and
Of course those lanes .