Mumbai is rich, Mumbai is poor.
Mumbai is fast, Mumbai is slower.
Little bit sweet, and little bit sour,
Sometimes it’s hot but not too more….

Mornings are energetic and evenings are electric.
Noons are lazy but Nights are crazy
And any one you ask he always say “M busy”
Dude, life in Mumbai is not so easy

There is lot of Masti with little bit of Maska
Welcome to the city that can’t live, without Bollywood Chaska

From cooker whistles to the traffic jam horns,
From steaming tea kettles to breaking nut-betels
From telephone rings and doorbell brings.
There are people connecting through Blackberry pings

Where there’s little time to spare for kids
People here spend their lives on bids
Here you actually pay your travel fare by meter
But milkman mixing water is not a cheater!

Sev puri and bhel puri are all Mumbai chaat
Relishing it with spicy chutney is no easy art
From pop-corn to ice-cream, all sold on cart
Mumbai o Mumbai, you’re always close to my heart

Where local trains usually run on time
And violently rushing for a seat is not a crime
Here 3 PM for lunch and 12 AM to dine
People face hardships, but still say “it’s fine”

From Mt Mary in Bandra to Mumba Devi in Town
And ISKCON in Juhu to Haji Ali in Mumbai’s Crown
Faith runs deep as the Arabian Sea
But people don’t hesitate to pay early darshan fee.

Marathi, Punjabi, Gujarati and Bengali
Everyone forgather celebrate Id and Diwali
Holi is colourful and Christmas is cheerful
Spend some time here and your life will be un-forgetful

Billionaire to baggers, all found in this city
Be careful dude, this place is a bit witty.
Overall this dream-world is huge but pretty
Mumbai o Mumbai you’re wonderful city.

Cities aren't cities,
The people are the cities,
she'd say, and I didn't understand
what she meant until I realised

That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever,
Khan Market- our best cup of coffee,
Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss,
Dilli Haat- our first quarrel,
The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel!
The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up.

Now I know which market sells her favourite
bags, which gully keeps the anklets
she loves most, which discrete stall in the
by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever,
Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory,
I try forget, I try erase,
But oh, I remember,
For she is my Delhi

Delhi is her, only her,
The city of first love, first dreams,
a million rights, a devastating wrong,
The city that now stings with the thorns
That make my feet bleed when I try to enter,
Even with my back turned,
The city hurls
Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me
to never return.
*I'll never return.

So you ask the difference
Between prose and poetry

Prose is just... prose

But poetry is a song
An entire universe, coming full circle
Poetry beats with my heartbeat
And it sings, but in a melody
Of words and midnight thoughts
Of strong coffee and dreamy haze
The mix of noise and silence
Poetry matches the rhythm of my feet
Tip-tap-tap, tip-tap-tap, it goes  
It climbs slopes and mountains
Varying in speed and delivery   
And descends, slowly, sliding into a pool of emotions
10,000 degrees of sadness and happiness
In each verse of the poet
Poetry is destruction and creation
Of the old and the new
Of statements and opinions
Of the paradaox of our age
Things built and unbuilt,
Broken and assembled
Like a lego model of complications
Poetry is revolt and revolution at the same time
It is a chant for liberation
That cannot be overcome by dominance
Or by any evil things of these times
Poetry is the hope of the protest
And the push for change
Waiting patiently, just going over the edge
About to burst not into flames but butterflies
And clear skies, Sunday morning sunlight
Like yellowed novel pages
Poetry will turn you inside out
Bare the soul and tear the flesh
Scatter the foundation of bones
Until you wonder and ponder
Over your very existence
Poetry is everywhere
And by everywhere, I mean, especially your toilet
Best thought out on the ***
Poetry is a word search with infinite vocabulary
Hoping to cross out as many as possible
But it never ends
Poetry is in the shade of your backyard tree
Of the things in this world that cannot speak
So we speak for them
It is the shout of the left-out, marginal, never-really-existing people
Poetry is life given to those who would not have had one
It is a Christmas sock for the soul
Comforting and warm, cherished in all forms
Poetry is writing poems for yourself and reading them in front of the mirror
And at the same time
Standing in a bazaar and waving your arms
Among cows and vegetables and chaat
Shouting, "Listen to me! I've got something to say!"
Poetry is getaway
In corners and edges
It is trying to escape everything real
And wanting the surreal
It is the 1 o'clock fantasies
Riding on waves, pirates of my own land
Middle Earth and elves, the adventures of dwarf lads
Poetry is the life-changer, the inspirer
The 'you'll be alright'
And 'next time buddy'
To every exam failed, every heartbreak
The arm on the shoulder, the pat on the back  

Poetry is... A lot of things
But most importantly,
Poetry is you
It's in the whispers of you singing in the shower
It is your ugly, spit flying, gums showing laughter on the terrace
It is how you snuggle right into my emptiness

Poetry is the answer
To my 6 year old adopted kid's question
When he walks in with my 10 adopted dogs
And asks me,
"Mom, what is everything made of?"
I'll first tell him that matter is made up of atoms
Because, of course, he needs to be scientifically correct
But then I'll add that everything is made of poetry too, there's not much difference

See, prose is just prose
But poetry is not 'just poetry'

Phoochkas to right of me
Phoochkas to left of me
Phoochkas in front of me
Garnished and Savored
Spiced with chaat this shell
A pani puri dunking swell
Into the jaws of yum
Into my mouth a spell
  Phoochkas by the dozen!

The newly married couple, Mr. Butter Masala and Mrs. Maggie Butter Masala reached their farmhouse at Kasauli Hills for summer vacation.

Standing on the balcony of their room, Mrs. Maggie asked Mr. Butter, "Would you like to join me in seeing the sunset point today?

"Sure, I also wanted to introduce you to two friends tonight!" Mr. Butter replied.

"That's a nice plan," Mrs. Maggie said.

"Would you like a cup of ginger tea?" asked Mr. Butter.

"You're the world's best tea maker; I would love to have it," said Mrs. Maggie. "But would you like to have tea cake along with it?"

Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie had a wonderful time at Kasauli Hills Station, which had stunning scenery and delicious food. When they got ready for their evening plans to watch the beautiful sunset and meet their friends, they walked down the hill station with their hands a little far away from each other, lost in thought about whether they wanted to hold hands.

As they enjoyed the sweet cold air while walking down and the peaceful scenery around, they were silent but present with each other.

"Sweetly, Mr. Butter said, 'You look beautiful in this orange dress.'"
"You look dapper in your blue suit, too!" replied Mrs. Maggie shyly. "

Both Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie reached the sunset point and smiled while watching the sun gracefully settling down, leaving beautiful tints of colors in the sky. They looked shy and wanted to talk but didn't speak that much.

When Mrs. Maggie asked Mr. Butter anything, he answered and looked at Mrs. Maggie's face, but shy Mrs. Maggie looked away. If Mr. Butter had asked anything of Mrs. Maggie, she replied and looked away with a smile but was present with him. So, somehow, they only talked a little.
Amidst the simple conversation between Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie, nature looked serene with excellent mountain scenery and greenery. The couples walked to a place to dine with their friends.

Mr. Hakka and Mrs. Hakka welcomed Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie. They greeted each other enthusiastically. Mr. Hakka and Mr. Butter were old friends and laughed at many stories.

As they planned to order some drinks, Mrs. Maggie generously offered them the peanut chaat she had prepared.

"What would you like to have? Any favorites in the drink?" asked Mr. Hakka.

"I am happy with the lemon water!" Mrs. Maggie replied contentedly.

"Are you also going to drink?" asked Mrs. Maggie curiously, looking at Mr. Butter.

"Will you start to faint if you drink too much?" asked the tensed Mrs. Maggie.

While Mr. Hakka made fun of Mr. Butter, Mr. Butter shyly assured Mrs. Maggie that she could take care of him if he found it difficult to stand.

"Yes, but we should protect each other. Please don't drink so much that you lose your senses!" said Mrs. Maggie (sounding concerned).

"I won't," assured Mr. Butter.
After a beautiful dinner get-together, the couples prepared to leave for their stay station.

This time, Mr. Butter extended his hand towards Mrs. Maggie to go back to their hill station. Mrs. Maggie felt happy, and they looked a little hesitant and shy, but they looked pleased. They thought they would talk to each other, but they didn't speak much.

That night, when they strolled in their garden poach area, nature looked warmly pleased by them, and stars shone on them. Mr. Butter turned to Mrs. Maggie to initiate a heartfelt conversation and began with an intriguing question. He lovingly asked if she would care for him throughout his life and be there for him through all the ups and downs. Mrs. Maggie's eyes twinkled when she started answering Mr. Butter. She lovingly replied to him, saying, 'I'm always just a hand away from you. You may want to feel my presence, then always hold your hand towards your chest and feel my presence in the pure silence of your heart. The only thing that I worry about is that nothing should ever happen to you. Would you always take care of yourself? Will you please do that for me?

Mrs. Maggie's words moved Mr. Butter so much that he hugged her in response.
The stars already shining on them started gazing at the moon, which was about to appear clear amidst the clouds. When the moon caught the star's gaze, he lovingly smiled at the couples and made a wish to the stars that were twinkling in the distance.

The serene nature and harmonious couples exuded a tranquil and blissful aura of togetherness.
In this way, the two unique couples, Ms. Maggie and Mr. Butter, remained calm and patient while listening to each other's daily worries and casual conversations, feeling satisfied and content in silence.
On a slightly sweet note, even though they didn't converse much, they were always present with each other throughout their journey!

©shivpoetesspriya

INDIA is the coolest place
Being here is not a disgrace
Home of Bollywood
Indian version of Hollywood
Delicious , mouth watering food
Biryani makers my mouth drool
And no one should forget Chaat, Paan and sweets
It is seriously worth taking a tour
home of Taj Mahal and many more
it has the best judiciary to make sure no one breaks the rule
Apples in Kashmir are the best
Once you eat one you won't rest
do you know what I am talking about?
Yes, it is my country INDIA