Dilli

The monster city.

The monstrosity.

Little truth.

A lot myth.

Then what is it really?

A city,

Of traditions, of history,

Of change, of modernity,

Of crumbling walls of Siri.

Glaring lights of the hoardings,

The sprawling Mehrauli.

Of the lone tombs of Lodhi,

The stones of Tughlaq,

That gave way to Lutyen's Delhi.

Ghalib's poetry,

Shahjahan's crumbling old city.

Entangled in controversies,

Aurengzeb or Kalam, 

Whoever wins in popularity.

Power corridors, 

Home to the mighty,

Dilli

The immigrant colonies,

A city of refugees,

Of malls and markets,

Mixed colors and a cacophony,

Loaded with money,

Yet living in deep poverty,

Asia's richest markets,

Competing with hunger-pangs and homelessness.

Too loud for a song,

And here we are singing its name,

Dilli

A mad man's muse,

A cynic's nightmare,

The pursuit of many,

Alive and yet dead with every horror story.

Never alone,

Yet unique.

Dilli