Sipping my favourite lemon tea in the nearby Gandhi garden,
Resting on Gandhiji’s feet,
In pursuit of my interaction with Patna and its people,
I am still failing again and again.
The city is
Stretching its hands to engulf me under its veil,
Enjoying some success in its endeavour of comforting me,
Emerging out as a winner and teasing me of my inability (to connect).
To connect with the soul,
To connect with the passing moments,
To connect with the lively motions of nature,
But I am still pondering about the reason of my defeat to connect (with Patna).
With the distinct language and a culture of its own,
It is continuously spreading a charm on me,
Flaunting the beautiful old architects and a glorifying past,
But somehow managing to keep its mystery a mystery,
And forcing me to dig deeper and deeper.
In between the bubbly clouds and sunrays from the canopy, the water drops are struggling to burst out,
The drops are ready to dance and rejoice,
Why am I the one who is still left?
Am I insensitive enough or the inability to connect is the culprit,
Behind my insensitivity- to cherish the new family and the new city.