Riding home on a stranger's bike...
Sweaty n tired after a wonderful hike,
Walking home is what I should do...
But it's too late... I needed help from you.

The smell of soil after heavy rain..
The sound of passing old trolley train..
It's all the same, it never changed,
That's ma hometown under Himalayan range.

When I took that 15 minute ride..
This road was the most amazing site..
The road sided  by tea plant farm,
Small or less but it's still a farm

Before ma hometown I reach a place,
It's a mandir where Hindus prays,
It has a roof with no windows and doors,
Under that building there is a pond.

Two or three counted fishes...
Normal fishes but may turn to delicious dishes..
Out of those just one I care...
The orange one whose color so rare.

It's still the same the fishes n place..
The childhood memory still not replace..
The story of witch and orange fish I care..
Untold myth of heart they share...

I heard from ma sister that there lives a witch...
Who roams at nite on the mandirs bridge.
I don't know if the saying was true,
Still gives me goosebumps when I am passing through...