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STREET

 Walking down the Street of my old home, my eyes turn moist,

The urchins, the vendors, the small shops, all have gone.
The familiar smell, stray dogs, the crowd, have left for good.
Now garish buildings, sour faced security, high gates greet me.
I go into a trance and the past unfolds in its brilliant colours,
Where is the soul, the street hawker who smilingly bargained.
The tea seller, the panwala, the cobbler, the beggars, the dogs,
The fruit seller, the tailor, all have become victims of development.
Give back the Street, where I grew up, with diverse unity,
Street food, friendly people, simple needs, our playground.
Move with the times, accept the changes, better life and comfort.
But the innocent Street, the Soul, brings me back to earth & roots.

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