Colonial buildings litter the sidewalk,
derelict and rundown. A past that
is fading into the bustle of the street.
Casts mingle, but prejudice lingers.

Tuk-tuks weave through out streets,
collecting tired feet that need a rest.
collecting lunch off street venders,
who greet with smiles, as aromas linger.

Street children, parentless masses sit
on the steps, hands wondering for rupee's.
The taxi doesn't stop, so they shower the path
with change, and they think of their baby at home.

As the old world fades, heritage still lingers.
but contradictions of what was and is contest.
Old ways grasp at the change, but our streets
will soon be a metropolis of fading faces.

"Is this a good thing? or are we moving to fast.