A rainy day in Hyderabad
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A crowded morning with umbrellas in air,
Dancing like peacocks on a rain fed evening.
Swirling and drenching their illusional bodies.
With all their genius minds in paradise.
During the early hours of Charminar,
With all the chaos and the chatter,
The smell of Irani chai radiates like sunshine.
The sound of thunder startles those,
Tiny pearls in glass enclosed cases.
In the flooded streets and alleys of General bazaar,
Beautiful Kurtis branch out like leaves in the air,
And the latest footwear in town finds its way home.
Children pull at their mothers' sari lovingly,
For a cup of freshly stewed sweet corn.
Khairatabad, an epitome of cultural diversity,
Is preoccupied with the festive preparation,
A time when Lord Ganesha descends,
To eradicate evil and showers his blessings,
On his beloved devotees on planet Earth.
The captivating aroma of biryani at Paradise,
Mesmerizes my taste buds desperate for a feast.
The tandoori grills are busy skewing delicacies,
And the sweet paan waits for its turn patiently.
Paradise is where the biryani legacy began.
Hussain Sagar, the place where Lord Buddha resides.
The rains are a gift of nature, my father says.
People shower the lake with flowers and idols,
In return for one-sided promises and wishes.
The lake gives me hope for a better future.
Once upon a time in Banjara hills,
Globalization eliminated the rocky landscape,
Leading to luxurious living and sky-high structures,
Creating a magnificent view for writers like me,
Inspiring art on a rainy day in Hyderabad.
Hi-tech City, the hub for every engineering graduate,
Stranded on the streets after s day's job,
Amongst the hustle and bustle of strangers,
Awaiting his mode of transport,
And reminiscing far away memories of his own.
Koti, the culmination of culture and art.
Delicacies of various kinds create a sense of euphoria,
Samosas and Jalebis stir your temptations,
While tiny drops linger on the bangles in Sultan bazaar,
And bookstore owners rush to rescue the knowledge bearers.
Built by Nizams many centuries ago,
Hyderabad holds its head high with pride,
As it welcomes it's beloved guests,
The wild winds of monsoon,
Who emanate pearls of rain,
And induce the fragrance of petrichor
On this heavenly day.
A poem by Srinidhi Vanamamalai
Guest writer for Philomath