Here's a little poem I wrote to celebrate Madras week...
Madras to me is...
Call her by any other name and she won't really be the same
You can tell the city is developing quite fast
When you can't decide which mall to visit on weekends.
Elegant pattu sarees and gold jewels never go out of fad
And jasmine buds adorn beautiful shikakai scented hair.
She has become quite modern now, but still retains her
Traditional charm and grace, and is still the best city
In India in many ways, though people now call her Chennai
She can be known by no other name but Madras.
Madras to me is...
Call her by any other name and she won't really be the same
A city that sleeps quite early but wakes up to morning ragas
And piping hot filter coffee and lovely women in long tresses
Deftly weaving kollams, that brings smiles to passing faces.
The Hindu arrives and patriarchs get lost behind it, to emerge
When wafts of steaming idlis' and crisp dosas' beckon
Time to hit the road or risk gettin caught in the loving embrace
Of the sun, that can give rise to homicidal tendencies.
Time to hit the road or risk gettin caught in the loving embrace
Of the sun, that can give rise to homicidal tendencies.
In this city people have an affinity for noise
Horns are always blaring and autos are a hoot
They bring me closer to God, figuratively, and at times
Literally too, by driving like Schumacher on steroids.
You can tell the city is developing quite fast
When you can't decide which mall to visit on weekends.
Elegant pattu sarees and gold jewels never go out of fad
And jasmine buds adorn beautiful shikakai scented hair.
She has become quite modern now, but still retains her
Traditional charm and grace, and is still the best city
In India in many ways, though people now call her Chennai
She can be known by no other name but Madras.
Comments
Thanks, yummy chunklet..
well-written :)