Anushka Dasgupta

I don't remember the first time I met you.

But I heard it had rained red with rallies.

The second time I met you, you had changed your name. You insisted on

being called by it. But no one did. Most still don't. The third time I met

you, I decided to stay and you took me in. And at a leisurely pace, far

away from the usual rat race, time passed. You grew, you rose, you turned

a new leaf over.

From pulpy celluloid to polished thrillers,

Frequent load sheddings to fervent generators,

From sprawling courtyards to sleek skyscrapers

From hammer, sickle, and stars to grass and flowers

But you always seemed hesitant to move forward

Struggling amidst modernity and nostalgia

Oscillating between Quest Mall and Victoria

Traversing through tram depots and metro lines

Shifting between the keys of harmonium and bars of a rhyme It's time to

leave again and your colours seem to shine Bridges lit in blue and

rainbows in your stride

The yellow of the cab is still brighter than the uber white Maybe it's my

rose-tinted glasses

Maybe I'm afraid to say goodbye

Until we meet again, I hope you remember me

In hectic book fairs and hazy Oly Pub memories

In Park Street, literary meets, tea stalls, and cigarettes In the loudspeaker

during Pujas and the Rabindrasangeet cassettes.