By: Ananya S Guha

The hill town is now
A ‘ city ‘, screeching, honking
Cars, upgrade it to a city
But the hills remain indifferent
Winter or summer, they are
Witnesses to primordial times
They are witnesses to thunderous
Rain claps, they are witnesses to
Deserted roads, quaint houses
And nights when only drunks roamed

How can I explain to them that
They have the trappings of a city?
And a hill town has transitioned to
A city with all the hustle and din?

But the hills still look askance
And point to the cloudy winter evenings
And rains in summer or the autumnal winds
As if nothing has changed…