The Town I Loved
A poem
The ghats mighty and strong,
The Imambara bordering the benevolent Ganges.
The ghats of lazy hopscotch of winter afternoons,
And whispered gossip in the dusk.
Where friendships were built on trust,
And names mattered not.
…
The town as I loved it,
Were those ghats in the dusk,
The Namaz call telling us to head home,
And the lights of the Imambara,
Wavering on the waters of the Ganges.
…
The candles burning bright,
In front of the Virgin Mary.
The pews a witness to my prayers,
We stood with silent vows
And names mattered not.
…
The town I loved,
Were those church bells ringing,
The old church and the dusty pews
Just for us to stand for a moment,
With our vows in silence.
…
The town I loved,
Where words mattered, smiles did,
Not the names, and the weight of it.
Festivals meant lights for the dusty town,
Every fair just a place to meet old faces,
Everything mattered, yes
The mosque, the church, and the temple,
The school, and the library, the ghats,
The friendships, the longing, the connect,
Yet it mattered not what your name was.
….
