Walking in the narrow lanes of the old city makes me ecstatic,
It replenishes my yearning for wandering,
In the unknown spaces of these mystic lanes
It somewhere completes a story,
That remained incomplete through ages,
In the labyrinths of my consciousness
The old houses here are the faces that narrate,
The splendor of the vibrant past
Of Lords, Kings, Queens and customs
To the kaleidoscope called the old city
PS- Dedicated to my meanderings in the old parts of Vadodara....
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Faces among crowds, paces around corners.
daily death frosted in the eyes of a gazer
A raunchy life chiseled into a lost smile
Shouts and call-outs brewed somehow-
Movement!
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