far away

foreign land,
in shades of
grey, blue and brown

wide roads,
black coffee,
alien cleanliness

silent, smooth trains
signboards devoid
of spelling errors

the perfection
offers no amusement
or warmth

what is this place I say
no bazaars oly,
no cows on the road also

english breakfast
on my plate
I used to like continental once

but now I dream
of idli dosa,
of dhabas,

and of bollywood songs
floating in
from next door aunty's house

I cant take it anymore
home beckons
wait wait, I'm coming.